


thunder kitty

by pusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, as with all my fics: the motherlord of pining, miwa and shouyou are very vital and dear to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusa/pseuds/pusa
Summary: Shouyou wraps an arm around Tobio’s shoulder and pouts at Akira. “Don’t you wanna date him?”Akira slumps against his seat and feels his bones melt down onto the floor.“It’s okay, Kunimi,” Tobio answers, leaning onto Shouyou. “I think I’ll be a better boyfriend than Kindaichi.”
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Kunimi Akira
Comments: 23
Kudos: 157





	1. make the pain diffuse the flame

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to ys, for giving me confidence to continue and post this, i love you <3 and this is for osgc, you all mean so much to me, i love you all <3

Knees scraped against the ground. Hands filled with bruises and wounds, dirt crawling itself inside of him, making a home inside, even when he doesn’t want them to. Jackets draped on shoulders; eyes glared at others. He wonders if things will always be like this.

We look at Kageyama Tobio, then, bruised knees bruising against dirt, already calloused hands scraping the dirt, eyes filled with tears yet still glaring up. We look at Kageyama Tobio then, soft heart at pause and gentle hands looking for another’s. We look at Kageyama Tobio then, harsh actions and harsher words, eyes a permanent glare and an ache in his chest that never went away. We look at Kageyama Tobio then and think: _you’ve conditioned yourself for far too long that you’ll never find happiness_.

We look at Kageyama Tobio, then and now, tall and taller, knees still bruising and scraped, not on the ground, not anymore, but instead, on squeaky gym floors, making a home inside of him yet again. We look at Kageyama Tobio and think: _you’ve always loved everyone and everything a bit too much, a lot, a whole lot, crawling itself inside of you, tugging at your veins_. We look at Kageyama Tobio and think: nothing much has changed. We look at Kageyama Tobio, at nineteen years old, hair a little longer, eyes a little softer, old wounds reopening and closing, and think: so much yet nothing has changed. He is still the same, he is not the same. He’s still Tobio.

He’s still Tobio.

Huh.

Maybe those should’ve been Akira’s thoughts.

“Hm,” he says suddenly, thoughts flowing in and out and across from him, inside the quaint café, sits the boy in question. Tobio, eyes glaring down at his math textbook, looks up with wide eyes and softly opened lips.

Finals season is near. Akira voices out his thought. And graduation, too. We’ll be in college soon. Or me. This, he voices out too.

“Yeah,” Tobio says, confused, head tilting a little. Akira wonders if old feelings can return. “That’s why we’re studying. And don’t mention that to me, I’m scared.”

“No,” Akira is quick to say, eyes focusing now on his phone. “You’re studying. I’m good to go. Also, sorry.”

“Gee, thanks.” Tobio looks at him one last time before giving him a small smile and returning to his textbook.

Akira looks at Tobio, hunched and focused, slender fingers tapping against the thick pages of the textbook and wonder if old feelings never really leave; if they only make a home inside of you and keep the doors locked for the meantime; opening them suddenly like floodgates, like a dam bursting, crawling around your chest like some insistent insect.

Here is how Kageyama Tobio heals (even if it’s in his own way, even if Miwa scoffs at him yet ruffles his hair like the annoying big sister she is):

Opening old wounds suck as much as it sounds. Hurts even more too.

Opening old wounds looks like dull, brown eyes and still parted in the middle hair, nose scrunching and lips pursed a little. Opening old wounds looks like brown eyes and furrowed brows, staring at him with an intensity that feels new yet familiar.

Opening old wounds feels like shaking hands and a stuttering voice, eyes glared down at his shoes, the annoying yet relaxing voice of his best friend echoing in his mind. Opening old wounds feels like a sudden aching in your chest, a piercing pain that comes and stays, pushing and tugging at your heart to _keep going, keep talking, keep apologizing_.

Opening old wounds sounds like _it’s okay, Kageyama, that was all in the past, it’s okay, really_. Opening old wounds sounds like _that was in middle school, dude. We’re okay now, you’re okay now. I’m glad you’re happier now_. Opening old wounds sounds like _yeah, we can all start over. We can still be friends_.

(akira had always been the nicer one out of the two)

(tobio looks at intertwined hands and longing glances and wonders why the opening of old wounds makes way for a new one. tobio looks at brown eyes looking at brown eyes and wonders why a new and fresher wound would open up. tobio looks and looks and looks and clenches his fists and carries his healed yet newly wounded heart back home. he goes back home with a new wound in place of the old, gentle and small in his hands, making itself a small and compact home inside of him, growing and growing.)

Kageyama Tobio heals in the worst way possible—hurts more than he heals; remembers the way his throat clogs, the pressure in his wrists and the way his heart explodes in his ears.

Tobio thinks healing has never hurt this much before.

Miwa had combed his bangs out of his eyes then, hands gentle and shaky as he stared at the floor. Her voice was hushed and quiet, the quiet whirring of the air conditioning loud between them. They were sitting on his bed, quiet and still. “You did a good job,” she had whispered and Tobio had gripped his fingers between his own and squeezed until he felt like all his blood stopped. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” he’d whispered, voice rough and croaky, eyes blinking rapidly to stop his tears. They don’t stop, they fall down to the floor, to his feet, to his wrist.

“Yeah,” Miwa whispered, ruffling his hair softly and gently. “Apologizing is hard. You did a good job. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” he’d said back, chest heavy and hands shaking, fingers flexing against each other. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Miwa whispered back, voice soft and tender, moving closer and forcing him into a hug. Tobio had mumbled apologies onto her neck, for the way he acted, for the way his tears had wet her neck, for the way his words were harsh, for the way he was.

“No more of that,” Miwa had whispered yet with fierceness and ferocity. “No more apologies. You’re you, you’re my baby brother, yeah? No more regrets.”

Tobio had wanted to ask her then. Tobio had wanted to shout at her. _Why does it hurt this much? Why is there a different pain now? Why did his hands looked like home holding his? Why won’t my wounds heal? Why, why, why, why?_

Tired, Tobio had sniffled instead, kept quiet yet stayed in her arms, in the hug. Tobio wonders if feeling loved can be bottled. And so, as the night dragged on, with Miwa’s gentle hands curling around his hair and her gentle touches easing him to sleep, Tobio had bottled it; love and pain and sadness, mixing together inside him, a small bottle about to burst. Tobio had bottled it then; quiet and soft, staying inside him.

_and i will not cry also, although you will expect me to. i was wiser too  
than you had expected for i knew all along you were mine_

**—** **Dorothea Lasky** , _Poems to an Unnameable Man_

“Are you together?”

Tobio and Akira look up at the same time and they blink up at Yutaro. Oh, this is a surprise.

 _What are you doing here?_ is what Akira wants to say.

“Yes?” Tobio answers him back, confused, smooth, head tilted to the side. Akira blinks.

Yutaro looks at Akira and then at Tobio. Akira. Tobio. Akira. Tobio.

“Ah.”

Akira blinks again. His phone feels too heavy against his palm. He can feel Tobio’s stare on him, but his eyes remain locked with Yutaro’s. When did he start loving brown instead of blue?

(when did he start thinking about brown instead of blue? when did he replace brown with blue? when did he cross the line; the line between old and new; familiar and home? when did he start to pretend that brown was prettier than blue?)

“Moved on so quickly?”

Ah.

Akira was expecting that, waiting for it even. Hm. Still hurts a lot.

“Hey,” Akira snaps back to reality, realizes a bit too late that he’s been staring too quietly and long. He turns to Tobio and feels his heartbeat quicken at the way he’s frowning up at Yutaro. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Akira wonders if the drumming in his ears is from his heart or from the noise around him.

Yutaro shifts underneath Tobio’s gaze and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing,” he coughs out and tries to catch Akira’s gaze. “It’s just that…”

Akira holds his breath. This shouldn’t even hurt that much but when Yutaro says, “It’s barely been three months?”—he feels like he’s been shoved inside a tiny room, filled with other people, pressing against him, pushing at him, clawing at his throat. Akira stares at the space between Yutaro’s wrists and waist, resting peacefully at his sides and wonders what’s it like for those wrists to be held against him again.

The tapping of a pen against the wooden table echoes in his ears and Akira blinks. Blinks. Looks away. Looks at Tobio. Looks at his hands holding the pen. _taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap._

 _Stop_ , Akira wants to say.

“You’re being weird,” Tobio says then and Akira looks at him. He can see the harsh flinch that Yutaro does. He stares at Tobio’s hands. “And mean and a little rude. What’s so wrong with us being together?”

_taptaptaptaptaptap_

The pen taps. The tap pens. Akira blinks.

“Ah,” Yutaro says again and it’s just one word— _one_ word yet it makes Akira’s insides light up on fire and explode everywhere. He wonders if exploding right now would be acceptable. “Nothing wrong, no, no. It’s just.”

“Just?” Tobio eggs on and Akira looks at him again, yet his eyes are glaring up at Yutaro. Akira wants to scream, wants to talk— _stop, stop, be quiet, please_.

“Kageyama,” Akira manages to mumble, and it should amuse him, how quick their heads look at him, how silence drapes itself over them like a suffocating and heavy blanket. Akira looks back down at Tobio’s hands, Tobio’s pen, the wooden table, and think, when was the last time breathing got too hard?

“It’s okay,” he mumbles again, looking up at to meet Tobio’s worried and kind eyes. Akira wonders if Tobio knows what he’s saying. “It’s okay, really.”

Tobio frowns at him but nods, a bit confused. Akira turns to Yutaro then and musters up the courage and anger and says, “Can you leave already?”

“Hey,” Tobio mumbles, for Akira to hear only. “That’s a little mean.”

 _Be quiet, Tobio_ , Akira wants to say. _Be quiet and let me have this, please._

Yutaro does. Even if he glares at Tobio a bit too long and frowns at Akira a bit too much. Even if he looks at them, disgusted and confused, before leaving, his presence a permanent space in front of Akira.

Tobio looks at him, math textbook forgotten, eyes littered with worry and confusion. Akira feels like a swimming pool, drained and swirling down the drain, eyes peeking up to see Tobio and Yutaro, looking down at him. Akira wonders if he should just crawl inside a drain.

Akira had welcomed Kageyama Tobio back into his life so easily that it scared him a little when the weight of the situation crashed into him. It scared him a little, how his hand holding Yutaro’s had squeezed a bit too tightly. It scared him a little, how Tobio’s eyes looked back at his, and then at their hands, and settling on his gaze again. It scared him a little, how—how Tobio had always felt familiar. And close.

(familiar familiar familiar familiar. akira looks at tobio and thinks. thinks and wonders. familiar familiar familiar.)

It was in the summer before their third year, how he and Yutaro were on the way home after summer practice, hands tangled with each other’s, voices soft and hushed, and stopping abruptly when they see a figure stop in front of him. Yutaro had squeezed his hands tighter then, out of reassurance or maybe he was uncomforted, Akira wasn’t sure, but he was sure of this: his breath had died back in his throat when he looked at those blue eyes and instead saw softer ones, brows relaxed, and lips curled into a small pout.

Akira had listened, of course, had looked at his wandering eyes, his teeth-bitten lips, his shaking hands, and wondered what his hands felt like against his. He’d squeezed Yutaro’s hands after that thought. Akira wonders if it’s possible to not forgive someone, to look at them and say harsh words with a sharp tongue. Akira looks at Tobio’s gentle eyes and shaky lips and finds himself rushing to close old grudges and seeking to relearn a familiar boy.

Akira forgives, squeezes a hand he’s grown to love, and finds comfort and familiarity in blue eyes and pouted lips. Akira forgives and lets himself smile at the way Tobio looks at them in shock, red slowly rising to his cheeks as he stammers out a _thank you_ and _thank you for forgiving me_.

Akira had pretended not to notice the way Yutaro’s grip on his hand had tightened. Akira had pretended not to notice the way Tobio’s eyes had filled with tears as he talked, fingers tugging at each other, feet shuffling uncontrollably. Akira had pretended not to notice the way Tobio’s eyes would flicker down to their interlocked hands and back up at Akira’s eyes. 

Akira had thought then; how old feelings make a home inside of you, growing and growing and appearing in front of you like a surprise birthday party banner. Yutaro had scoffed at Tobio’s leaving figure and brought up Akira’s hand to his lips. He’d mumbled of past grudges and mistakes and anger and old beginnings. Akira had mumbled back on how Tobio seems to have changed. Yutaro laughs and presses a small kiss against his knuckles again.

Later, when Yutaro has him pressed up against the wall, lips pressed against his and hands wandering, Akira lets himself imagine what he’s always been imagining, doesn’t stop himself in seeing a setter’s hands and blue eyes, dark hair brushing by eyebrows. Akira lets himself be kissed and lets himself think of old love and other hands and doesn’t stop himself when Yutaro looks at him and kisses his collarbones a little too sweetly and harshly.

Akira wonders if he was ever meant for love.

(that’s already given. akira realizes soon enough, that love comes whenever he isn’t ready, when he thought it wasn’t possible, love had come to him in a form of—)

Halfway through their third year, amidst the mess, the pressure, the trainings, the matches, Akira finds comfort and friendship in Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio. He finds comfort in the gentle laughter of Tobio’s and even gentler eyes of Shouyou’s. He finds familiarity in the way Tobio laughs alongside with Shouyou, in the way Shouyou jumps around them, tugging at Akira’s hands and gifting him keychains he thinks he might like. Akira finds comfort.

Halfway through their third year, Akira learns the difference between love and infatuation in the hardest way. He learns of glared eyes and slapped wrists and words piercing through his heart, even when they were mumbled, low and deep. He relearns of old feelings and new ones and wonders why looking at brown eyes ever gave him comfort.

Halfway through their third year, Akira looked at his shaking hands, his too-fast beating heart as Tobio glared down at the floor with furrowed brows and Shouyou walked around them angrily, mouth moving fast and the only words that Akira understands are _asshole turnip_ and _turnip’s a douche!_ and jumped when someone sat down beside him. Tobio’s words are mumbled and low as he said _it’s going to be okay, kunimi, i’m sure he just wasn’t being himself. maybe he still loves you_.

Shouyou says he’s just an asshole. Tobio argued that Kindaichi would never do that. This turns into one of their usual arguments, but Akira doesn’t have the energy to stop them. He finds himself agreeing with Shouyou more. Maybe he’s just an asshole. Or maybe Akira is. No, maybe Yutaro is.

Tobio asked him why they fought, why they broke things off. Shouyou stayed quiet and Akira bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

“I don’t know. Maybe he got tired of me.”

 _I got tired of him_ , is what he really wanted to say. _Hey, how do you fall in love with two people? Tobio, why did you come back? Why did you have to come back and wreck me open all over again? Why was it so easy to fall in love with another yet still, my heart opens to you? Why can’t you love me back?_

Shouyou had wrapped his hand around his and looked at him and Akira wondered—if everyone knows. If everyone knew how he feels, truly. Tobio’s thigh against his was comforting and a touch enough. Shouyou looked at him and squeezed his hand and Akira wonders if he really was meant for love. If love would come to him like a gentle summer breeze, soft and welcoming.

It did not. Unfortunately.

* * *

When Shouyou asks them with a loud _you’re dating?!_ , Tobio looks just as surprised as he is and Shouyou hits him in the back of his head in disbelief. Akira gives them five minutes of fighting as he looks down and plays with his ordered salad before clearing his throat when Tobio shoves Shouyou a bit too much at the table that Akira’s phone, resting peacefully and quietly, almost falls.

“Can you two stop it,” he deadpans and Shouyou gasps, as if remembering him. Akira watches in disdain yet with slight amusement as he tries to sit up straight while in Tobio’s chokehold.

“Kunimi,” Shouyou pouts, managing to scramble away from Tobio. “Why didn’t you tell me you two were dating?”

Tobio nods, as if he isn’t part of the ‘relationship’. Akira looks at him in disbelief. “Unbelievable.”

“We’re not dating,” Akira sighs then and glares at the two. “Yutaro was assuming stuff. Kageyama and I aren’t dating.”

Akira focuses his gaze on Shouyou just in time to see his face go through a multitude of expressions—shock, disbelief, realization, understanding, pity, then faux happiness, all in, like, ten seconds. He lets himself be amused by his obvious expressions, the way he saw more in Shouyou than heard, ignoring the ache in his chest that spawned when he said those words. (Akira likes to pretend—likes to pretend that the ache in his chest hasn’t made a home inside of him, likes to pretend that the ache doesn’t jump and roll around whenever he saw posters about _karasuno vs some team_ anywhere. Likes to pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend. Huh.)

“Hm,” Shouyou hums loudly and turns to Tobio with narrowed eyes. Akira feels like he’s going to say something stupid. “Hey! Kageyama! What if you confessed to Kunimi!”

The world stops and Akira almost snaps off his metal fork. Akira blinks at his salad and looks up to see Tobio looking at Shouyou with confusion. Or maybe anger. Akira doesn’t know. Shouyou has a napkin up to Tobio’s cheeks, for what, he doesn’t know. (Akira has long since understood that Tobio and Shouyou have moments of confusion and idiocy that only they can understand.)

“Wah, wait, I said it wrong!” Shouyou gasps and turns to Akira with wide eyes. “I mean! Kunimi, confess to Kageyama!”

Akira’s fork clutters to his salad bowl and the three of them stare at it. Akira looks away from the fork and focuses his gaze on Shouyou. Shouyou grins at him, despite the glare he’s giving him. “Right! Kageyama, confess to Kunimi and you too, Kunimi! And then Turnip can leave you alone!”

Tobio stays silent and then he nods in excitement and understanding, which makes Akira feel his face warm up.

_What the hell is going on?_

“Fake dating,” Tobio gasps, eyes wide and sparkling and Akira lets himself stare at him, at the way his cheeks push up. There’s this childlike glee in his eyes as he looks at Shouyou for affirmation. “Right, Hinata? Fake dating.”

“Yeah!” Hinata jumps on his seat and Akira feels like he’s dealing with the devil. “Kageyama, you read my mind! Make Turnip leave you alone, Kunimi! He’s an asshole and maybe he’ll be scared of Kageyama!”

Tobio furrows his brows. “I’m not scary.”

“Yes, you are,” Shouyou gently reminds him, like it’s an important feature of Tobio’s and both Tobio and Akira frown at him. “What’ja think, though?”

Akira stays quiet and stares at Tobio. Tobio stares at him back and he laments at how—at how Tobio is so quiet and beautiful, staring at him with bright eyes. Akira wants to reach across the table and punch him. (Maybe kiss him, too.) (No maybes. Akira wants to look at Tobio and feel reassurance.)

“I need more convincing,” he says instead, and almost smiles at the way Tobio looks at him in excitement. Shouyou jumps on his seat again and Akira wonders if he should just abandon his salad.

Here are the pros (as listed by Hinata Shouyou):

  1. Turnip is ugly
  2. Turnip will be jealous
  3. Can turnips turn green?



(There’s a hard scratch on the last one, written in Tobio’s writing, _no, you dumbass_ and then there’s a flurry of scratchy writing and cursed words. By the fifth _fuck off_ , Akira has forcefully pulled away the paper from them, eliciting a hard and long line, courtesy of Shouyou’s pen)

Here are the cons (as listed by Kunimi Akira):

  1. I’m busy with training
  2. College is coming soon. I’m studying
  3. Me and Kageyama are not romantically involved



(Tobio had frowned at the last one yet still nodded in understanding. Akira wonders if Tobio also felt the pain in his chest. Akira wonders what he’d do if Tobio suddenly crossed the last one out. Or if he crossed out the _not_. Akira wonders and wonders.)

Here are the pros (as listed by Kageyama Tobio):

  1. Kunimi is my friend
  2. What Kindaichi did was bad and rude (hurt Kunimi)
  3. My ideas are always good



(Akira had asked him of the first one. Tobio justifies it with _I would do anything for my friend_ and Akira had wanted to punch him [punch can be another word for kiss]. Shouyou had proceeded to fight him on the third, proceeding to list off moments where Tobio’s idea were _not_ always good. Akira doesn’t have the heart and energy to tell them that it was Shouyou’s idea.)

Shouyou says Akira lost, 2-1. Tobio nods in success. Akira wants to grab his shoulders and scream at him, _why do you want us to date so badly? What does this mean? Why won’t you kiss me instead?_

Shouyou wraps an arm around Tobio’s shoulder and pouts at Akira. “Don’t you wanna date him?”

Akira slumps against his seat and feels his bones melt down onto the floor. He wonders if Shouyou’s doing this to spite him. Akira had always felt weirdly towards him, how he felt that Shouyou can be too much yet too little at the same time, wide eyes piercing through him. Akira feels like he would say nothing yet Shouyou would understand him, still. Shouyou scares Akira a little. (Akira also thinks Shouyou can defeat God but that is a different conversation.)

“It’s okay, Kunimi,” Tobio answers, leaning onto Shouyou. “I think I’ll be a better boyfriend than Kindaichi.”

Akira stares at them both and thinks _fuck it_. “Fine,” he mumbles, burying his mouth into his scarf. “Whatever.”

He pretends that his warm face is due to the cold, ignoring science and all that. He pretends that his heart doesn’t jump out of his chest when Tobio grins at him, soft and wide, eyes bright and wide as he turns to Shouyou with a cheer. He pretends that his face doesn’t get any warmer when Shouyou talks of dates and ways to get Kindaichi even more jealous. He pretends that his life is a movie, instead. Maybe, in the end, Tobio will look at him and kiss him. Not even for fake dating. Maybe this was Shouyou’s plan all along.

Akira ignores the two and instead stares at the crowd of people inside the café, forcing the ache in his chest to calm down and to remain…remain optimistic. Maybe his life can be a movie, too.

That’s a lie. Akira’s life is _not_ like a movie. He’s eighteen years old, two months before graduating high school, and two of their school’s supposed rivals are outside of their gym.

Akira pointedly ignores the stares at him and the hushed silence that covers the gym. He sighs and stands up from the floor and nods to the captain.

“Kunimi!” Shouyou shouts from outside the door and Akira manages a small smile. He can practically hear the whispers. _Why is Karasuno’s ace and setter in our school?_

Tobio stands next to him, brows furrowed and focused on Akira. He bows a little. “Hello.”

Akira rolls his eyes and walks towards them. He doesn’t know if he should be thankful that they’re annoying him after practice too.

“Akira.”

Akira blinks and stops, looking at his side. Yutaro’s looking at him with a pained expression. Akira stares at him, quiet and calculating and almost walks up to him, invite him for coffee or something. And then, Shouyou laughs at something Tobio said, a twinkling sound, and it’s almost like he’s been snapped out of a spell.

“See you tomorrow,” Akira nods at him and fixes his gym bag by his shoulder and walks out the gym. Once he’s in front of Shouyou and Tobio, it’s then he realizes that he’s been holding his breath and he gasps out, looking down at the ground.

“Kunimi?” Shouyou’s voice is warm and familiar. There’s a hand on his shoulder. Tobio’s voice is soft and worried and hushed. Akira’s grip on his bag strap is tight.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles out then and urges them to walk a bit farther from the gym. “I’m fine, really.”

Once they’re just outside of the school gate, Tobio mumbles, “Would you like me to hold your hand,” and Shouyou has wrapped his hand around Akira’s wrist. Akira looks at Tobio then and feels love flood his chest. _God_ , he thinks, eyes glazing over Tobio’s gentle eyes and teeth-bitten lips, _I am not one of your strongest soldiers_.

Akira nods. Tobio does, hand against hand, new yet familiar, like water meeting water. Akira blinks down at the ground and squeezes Tobio’s hand. His hand is—is rougher, more calloused, yet there’s this underlying softness and gentleness in the way his fingers curl against Akira’s, the kiss of a touch between their palms and how Tobio’s thumb rubs small circles against his.

Akira wants to die.

Shouyou talks of their practice earlier and Tobio answers him back excitedly. They don’t force Akira to speak, Tobio holds his hand, Shouyou holds his wrist. Akira lets himself be pulled and distracted.

Shouyou talks of beach volleyball and Tobio talks of the Olympics. Maybe, Akira lets out small pieces of his thoughts and Shouyou’s and Tobio’s grip on him tightens and they both look at him with smiles and excited nods.

And then, “I think you guys should go on a date!”

Akira stops walking. He pulls Tobio and Shouyou back with him. “What.”

“Kunimi,” Shouyou pouts. “That’s what dating is about! You and Yamayama should go on a date! Don’t invite me, okay? Just the two of you!”

Akira looks at Tobio and Tobio looks back. There’s a small smile on his face. Akira cherishes this moment and smiles back. “All right,” he shrugs and continues walking. He belatedly realizes that they’ve been walking towards a 7/11 store. “But I want a fancy date.”

Tobio splutters and Shouyou laughs. Akira smiles and pulls at the hand Shouyou’s holding. “You’re helping him, chibi.”

Akira wants to be surprised, but he really isn’t when Tobio tells him their date is at the movies. He wants to ask Tobio why he chose this one, why the movie?, why not a movie in your place, in my place?, why do we have to go to the mall?

Tobio knocks on their house door and Kunimi answers it, eyes sleepy and a black, fat cat in his arms. Tobio’s eyes widen and his lips part a little when the cat tilts her head at him.

“Morning,” Akira mumbles, stepping aside. “I’m just gonna change into clothes and we can go.”

Tobio is quiet when he goes in, toeing off his shoes and bowing respectively. His eyes catch on to every detail of the house as he follows Akira to the living room. He sits down when Akira motions him to. Akira looks at him and marvels at how he looks—like he fits here. Inside Akira’s old family house, amidst the family photos, amidst the house plants his mother insists on buying, amidst the familiar and old house smell.

Soy meows and jumps off his arms. He watches as she gracefully stretches in front of him before walking over to Tobio. The boy sits on the couch and watches wide-eyed as Soy walks over to him and stares up at him.

“Her names Soy,” Akira says, “and she can jump on the couch, don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

He hears the soft mumble of Tobio and hides his smile until he’s gone up the stairs, heart beating a little too fast and the heat in his cheeks too warm beneath his palms. He leans back against his closed door and lets out a soft scream into his palms.

Jesus, fuck.

Akira’s not going to survive this day.

When Akira’s all dolled up and ready to face the ever-magnanimous Tobio, he goes down to see Tobio holding Soy arms-length away from him. Akira stays by the stairs and watches, watches as Soy stares at Tobio with wide eyes and Tobio stares back, yet his lips moving a little, as if talking to her. Soy meows softly and Tobio nods understandingly.

Akira wants to take a photo of them and to live inside that photograph.

Akira clears his throat and both Soy and Tobio turns their heads at him. Akira smiles when Soy wiggles in Tobio’s arms before jumping, running towards Akira. He’s quick to scoop her up in his arms and to gently press his nose against hers.

“Gonna leave now, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a hand against her stomach and she meows. “Behave, yeah?”

He looks up and sees Tobio standing in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes flicker to Akira’s and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips before his eyes find Soy’s and he smiles even more. Akira wants to punch him.

“You ready to go?” Akira asks and Tobio nods, hand raising a little to scratch at Soy’s neck. Soy purrs and twists a little to Tobio’s touch. Akira feels like he’s holding a traitor.

“Bye-bye, Soy,” Tobio mumbles and then Akira gently bends down to lay her down on the floor. Five minutes are spent with them marveling and gushing on how she’s the prettiest and the cutest and fattest cat. Soy rolls around and meows loudly.

“Should we go?” Akira asks after Soy rolls around again. “What time is the movie starting?”

“Two hours,” Tobio answers back, eyes focused on Soy before he blinks and looks at Akira with a smile. “Let’s go?”

When Tobio holds Akira’s hand, it’s soft and natural between them that Akira forgets they’re fake dating for a moment.

For a moment.

For a moment, Akira puts on his shoes next to Tobio, hands still held, opens the door next to Tobio, hands still held, walks along the road next to Tobio, hands still held, rides the train, talks to Tobio, laughs a little, hands still held, warm and soft and gentle. For a moment, Akira forgets they’re fake dating.

The movie they watch is entitled _When Marnie Was There_ and Akira almost babbles in excitement how much he likes Studio Ghibli. Tobio does for him, because Akira thinks they’re soulmates and that soulmates always have the same interests. Akira watches him with a smile as Tobio’s eyes sparkle and widen, voice low and rushed as he talks of his favorite Studio Ghibli movies and small facts he knows. Akira holds his hand and doesn’t let go, even when Tobio’s hands fly and are too animated when telling a story.

During the movie, Akira finds himself looking at Tobio more than the movie. He stares at the way Tobio frowns, at the way his brows furrow, at the way he turns to Akira to complain of the characters. Akira doesn’t bother in hiding, how he’s staring at Tobio instead of the movie. Tobio turns to him during a particular scene and talks of unfair children, of children who are a little too mean and Akira lets out a teasing smile.

“Is that so, Kageyama?” he whispers, close to his ear and Tobio turns to him with wide eyes. “Who’s being mean?”

Then, Tobio’s eyes widen even more and he pouts, glaring at Akira. “Mean,” he whispered back, lips a breathe away from Akira’s. “You’re being mean, Kunimi. Now shh—this part is interesting.”

For now, Akira looks away from Tobio’s bright eyes and at the movie screen, Anna and the blond girl rowing in the boat. Akira watches with a slight ache in his chest when the blond wraps her arms around Anna, and he wonders if he could do that too.

“ _Remember I said last night that you’re my precious secret?_ ” she had whispered, voice low and sweet and at that, Akira spares a glance at Tobio, at his parted lips and his red cheeks. Akira wonders what it would be like to hold Tobio’s hand right now. If it would feel natural between them.

Anna hums and Akira looks back. “ _I remember,_ ” Anna had said, looking back at the blond. “ _And you’re my secret_.”

Akira looks at the screen and wonders what it would be like—to not be a secret.

Tobio had found solace in Akira’s hand halfway through the movie. Marnie and Anna were in the forest and Tobio had put his hand down on top of Akira’s resting one on the arm of his chair. Tobio had looked at him then, eyes wide and an apology at the corner of his lips.

Maybe, there must’ve been something in Akira’s eyes then. How vulnerable they must’ve looked for Tobio. He looked back at Tobio, at the sudden warmth of his hand on top of his, and Tobio calmed down, hunched shoulders relaxing. And then, slowly, Akira twisted his hand, opened up his palm for Tobio. Tobio’s fingers found comfort and home in the spaces between Akira’s and the kiss of palms was enough for Akira to squeeze his hand and to look back at the movie, his other hand shaking to cover his shaking mouth.

Marnie had hugged Anna then, pitiful yet full of love. “ _I love you more than any girl I’ve ever known_ ,” she whispered then and Tobio’s hand had squeezed his.

Akira looks at Tobio’s face, illuminated by the bright colors of the movie, at his bright eyes, at the high blush on his cheeks, and wonders what it’s like to hold his hand in a place where they aren’t hidden in the dark.

“I think I like the ending,” Tobio mumbles after the movie, staring at the sticky floor of the mall and a pout on his lips. Akira wants to kiss it off for him.

“Of course, you do,” Akira mumbles and tugs at his hand for him to start walking. Tobio stumbles a little but follows him. “It would’ve been nice if that didn’t happen.”

“That, too,” Tobio mumbles and Akira watches as he tucks a stray hair behind his ear, yet it falls gracefully by his face. Akira looks at Tobio’s growing hair and feels his heart stutter. “But maybe it was a good ending, too. You can always find love anywhere, I think… Kunimi?”

Akira has stopped walking and has stood in front of Tobio, eyes calculating and his teeth biting the inside of his cheek. Tobio looks at him with wide eyes and lets out a small smile. Akira wants to punch him, wants to punch the smile off his face. Akira wonders why Tobio doesn’t hate him—and if this would’ve been easier if Tobio had just decided to hate him instead.

Akira’s other hand gingerly brushes off Tobio’s bangs away from his forehead and he smiles at the way Tobio’s breath shudders, the soft fluttering shut of his eyes as he leans closer to Akira’s touch. Akira brushes away his bangs and lets his hand stay on top of Tobio’s head. He ruffles it lightly.

“We should buy you some clips,” Akira whispers and Tobio opens his eyes, blue meeting brown, and bites his lip. Akira’s hand shakes by Tobio’s hair and he’s thinking of kissing him. “For your hair. Or we should cut it.”

Tobio hums, Akira’s fingers twitches. Quickly, he removes his hand from Tobio’s hair and his bangs flop back down by his eyebrows. Tobio’s nose scrunches and Akira smiles. “We can do that,” he mumbles, shy and quiet and there’s a squeeze of a hand holding his.

“Yeah,” Akira mumbles back and his hand twitches by his side. He tugs at Tobio’s hand again and he looks back at him. “Let’s get something to eat, Tobio.”

Akira wants to kiss him.

(he doesn’t)

Akira always thought his heart was the feeblest thing inside his body, even though he tried to convinced himself it wasn’t. It was always so hard to convince yourself of something you weren’t.

“Hey.”

Akira stops in rummaging through his gym bag and looks up with disinterested eyes. Yutaro stands in front of him with a curious expression and Akira wants to punch it off of his face. Literally.

“Hm?”

“I saw you this weekend,” Yutaro rushes out and Akira straightens up, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. His hands grip a little too tightly at his strap and he wants—wants to leave, so badly, never to see Yutaro’s face again. “You were with Kageyama?”

Akira tilts his head and hopes that his face shows annoyance instead of vulnerability. “Yeah,” he answers, throat dry. “That’s what couples do.”

 _At least real ones do,_ Akira thinks faraway, _not ones who fake date just because. Not ones who fake date just to make you jealous. Hey, Yutaro. Were you jealous? Did it make you realize that we looked better together, Tobio and I?_

Akira wants to run back to Yutaro. Akira wishes Tobio was beside him. Akira wants to punch Yutaro.

“Yeah,” Yutaro echoes. “Couples.”

Akira nods and waits for Yutaro to speak up. Waits for him to beg, to make Akira laugh at his stupidity because why would he want him back? Akira can’t. Akira doesn’t.

“I’m leaving,” Akira says instead after minutes of silence and moves to walk towards the gym doors.

“Wait,” Yutaro catches his wrist and Akira blinks, frozen in place. Yutaro’s grip on his wrist is tight and—and unlike Tobio’s. “Akira.”

Akira blinks at the gym doors and faces Yutaro. “What?”

Yutaro flinches against the tone of his voice and his grip softens, but still, he holds onto his wrist, like it’s his last sliver of hope. Akira wants to retch it away from him. “Are you sure? About Kageyama? What about us?”

Akira pulls his wrist away from Yutaro’s grip and glares at him. “What about it?”

Akira marvels at the way Yutaro looks at him, confused and angry. Akira shoves his hand inside his pocket to stop its shaking. He bites the inside of his cheek and walks away from Yutaro again.

“I’m sure about Kageyama now,” he mutters and stares at brown eyes he used to love. Loves? Loved. “And he’s sure about me, too. You weren’t.”

Akira bites his lip and looks at Yutaro’s eyes and wishes it was the last time. “You never were. About me.”

Sometimes, Akira wishes he left the club instead. Or maybe Yutaro would.

Akira looks at him one last time and wishes it was really the last time.

* * *

“Have you two kissed already?”

Akira clutches into the pillow he’s holding and hopes his nails doesn’t tear at the cloth. Tobio splutters back the water he’s drinking into his cup. Shouyou, uncaring and bright, smiles at them from his position on the floor of Tobio’s bedroom.

Graduation was steadily approaching and the three of them didn’t really know how to go about, especially when there wasn’t any training. So Shouyou had suggested spending time at Tobio’s, even if they spent it all day just talking and doing nothing. (Or maybe working out, Akira doesn’t really know, he falls asleep by the time the clock hits three o’clock.)

“Dumbass!” Tobio splutters out and Akira turns to him, from his corner of Tobio’s bed, leaning against the wall. “Why would you ask that?”

Shouyou pouts and leans back his head against the bed. Akira scoots a little closer and plays with the ends of his hair. “You two are dating!” he pouts again, and Akira has to stop himself in pulling harshly at Shouyou’s hair. “Don’t couples kiss?”

Akira pulls harshly at Shouyou’s hair and he whines in pain, hands jumping around and flailing, trying to move away from Akira’s torture. Tobio stays quiet in his desk chair.

“We aren’t dating, idiot,” Akira says, going back to softly combing through Shouyou’s hair and the other smiles up at him with a certain glint in his eyes. “We’re fake dating, remember?”

From the corner of his eyes, Tobio’s nodding yet frowning. Akira doesn’t wanna think too much on what it means. Shouyou’s pout deepens and he moves his head away from the bed to turn fully at Akira, hands on his knees. “You’re still dating! People who date still kiss!”

Then, Shouyou gasps and he turns to Tobio quickly. “Let’s practice kissing!”

“No,” is Tobio’s quick reply and Akira smiles.

“Idiot!” Shouyou whines and turns to Akira then. “Kunimi, tell Kageyama! You guys need to kiss! I’ll even help you!”

Akira raises a brow and pats the pillow he’s been holding. “You’ll help us? How?”

Shouyou fixes him a look, a teasing smile on his lips as he raises his brows suggestively and Akira throws the pillow on his face. They both watch as Shouyou lets out a noise of surprise before falling on the floor. “Why’ja spike it?” Shouyou screeches underneath the pillow, standing up quickly and glaring at him.

Akira meets his eyes and he simply shrugs. “Stupid idiots get spiked,” he answers and Shouyou glares at him and he turns his head when he hears Tobio snicker.

“Shut up, Kageyama!” he pouts then scrambles up to the bed next to Akira. He looks at Tobio. “Come here!”

Akira watches in confusion as Tobio does. He sits in front of Akira and shares a look of confusion with him. “You know,” Shouyou starts, holding both of their hands and Akira blinks. When did he hold his? “I think kissing is very important in a relationship.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re stupid,” Tobio says and Akira coughs out a laugh. Shouyou glares at them and squeezes their hands tightly.

“As I was saying,” Shouyou starts again, beginning to sound like some preschool teacher. Akira focuses his eyes on Shouyou’s undercut. “How are you gonna date but not kiss? C’mon! Do it as, like, a graduation thing!”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” Akira says blankly and Shouyou pouts at him. “We can kiss without having to do it for graduation.”

The weight of his words crashes onto him and his eyes widen at the same time Shouyou’s face brightens. “Great!” he grins and stands up quickly, winking at them both. “I’m gonna go play with the cat outside. See ya!”

Akira and Tobio watch as Shouyou runs outside his room. Akira turns to Tobio. “We don’t have to—”

“Was,” Tobio says loudly and Akira reels back a little, brows shooting up in surprise. Tobio turns to him, cheeks red and teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip. “Was Kindaichi a good—a good kisser?”

Oh. Akira feels like face heat up and he quickly looks at the side, hearing his heart beat a little too loudly in his ears. Holy _fuck_.

“What do you mean,” he coughs out, biting onto his bottom lip and glancing back at Tobio. He regrets it soon enough, when his eyes meet Tobio’s dark ones and his eyes glaze over the high blush on Tobio’s cheeks. He moves his legs a little and realizes that his knees touch Tobio’s and he stills.

Sudden and quiet, Tobio moves a little closer and Akira leans back against the wall of his bed. It’s almost a game of push and pull, how Akira leans away yet Tobio only moves a little closer. Akira wonders if this is some cruel joke.

Tobio looks at him then, eyes dark and serious, “Do you wanna kiss?”

Akira wants to punch him and Shouyou. This has to be some joke.

Akira feels his mouth dry and he shakily licks his lips and he doesn’t miss the way Tobio’s eyes drift down to the movement before going back to his eyes. Akira moves closer and Tobio does too. Akira wonders if this is okay, if he should just say fuck it. If he should just ignore all feelings and to kiss the boy in front of him. If he should ignore the casualties and technicalities of their relationship and just grab the front of Tobio’s shirt and kiss him breathlessly.

Akira battles death for a moment then says, “Yeah,” he looks at Tobio and then at his lips. “Let’s kiss.”

(akira wonders if shouyou suggesting the fake dating thing is a good thing. akira wonders if this day is real. akira wonders if he should kiss tobio and then leave japan altogether.)

Akira convinces himself that this is okay, it’s okay to kiss your fake boyfriend, the one where you don’t even know why he’s even your fake boyfriend. Akira looks at Tobio’s shiny lips and wide eyes and convinces himself that maybe this is okay. Akira crosses his legs and Tobio moves even closer, knees to knees and Akira lets out a shaky breath.

Tobio’s hand reaches up and hovers for a moment and he looks at Akira. “Can I,” he whispers and Akira nods, moving closer. Tobio’s hand cradles his jaw and moves closer, breath warm against Akira’s lips.

“Have you kissed someone before,” Akira asks him, soft and whispered, lips brushing against his and he shivers at the way Tobio’s hand tightens its grip on his jaw. Tobio leans closer and tilts his head, brushing his lips against Akira’s in a cruel way.

“Yeah,” Tobio’s lips quirk up a little and brushes his lips against his again. Akira lets out a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. _kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me_

Tobio leans closer and kisses him then, soft and tender, a gentle brush against his and the warm exhale he does. Akira presses closer and shudders at the soft smile Tobio does. Akira stores that knowledge deep in his heart, the fact that Kageyama Tobio smiles into a kiss, the fact that he may not experience this again. Akira presses closer and tries to feel that this is real.

When Tobio pulls away, Akira hesitates before leaning in closer to catch his lips. His eyes open to find Tobio’s, and there’s a ghost of a smile in his lips. His thumb rubs circles by his cheek and he takes in a shaky breath when Tobio’s hand inches up higher and his thumb rubs at the corner of his mouth.

Akira wonders.

His tongue swipes out to lick at the pad of Tobio’s thumb.

Tobio’s breath hitches and Akira smiles at him. _Kiss me_ , he wants to say, wants to beg. _Kiss me, please_.

Tobio does. This time, his kiss is a force to reckon with. Akira gasps against his mouth and marvels at the way Tobio’s thumb pushes at the corner of his mouth. He makes a small noise at the back of his throat and leans back against the wall, practically melting. Tobio moves closer, closer than they’ve ever done, and Akira can feel the warmth of his body against his, the plush of his thigh against his. Akira wants to wrap Tobio in his arms forever.

Tobio’s thumb pushes against the corner of his mouth and like in a spell, his mouth drop opens, and he kisses him hungrily, like he’s the one who’s been harboring sacred feelings, not Akira.

Tobio pushes closer and closer and Akira lets him. Lets himself melt underneath Tobio’s mouth and touch, the way Tobio’s hand grip and flex by his jaw. Lets himself melt in the way Tobio’s mouth fits perfectly against his, breathing warm and heavy. Lets himself melt in the way Tobio’s lips feel like some corny and hidden puzzle piece, comfortable and familiar against his. Lets himself melt in the way Tobio’s thigh brushes against his, his other hand coming down to rest on top of Akira’s thighs.

Akira wants to stay in this moment forever.

And then, three things happen:

Tobio’s tongue meets his and there’s this brief moment of silence that’s been ruined by the soft whimper that Akira lets out.

His eyes snap open and he pulls away from the kiss, hastily covering his mouth with his hand as heat rushes up to his cheeks in an instant.

The door swings open and in comes Shouyou, dirt on his cheeks and a shout on his lips.

“The cat chased me around the house!” Shouyou laughs and Akira turns to the wall, still feeling his burning cheeks underneath his shaking hands.

(shouyou definitely knows what happened. had joked a little with akira, made him laugh a little. still, the underlying sting and bruises on his lips lingers whenever he looks at tobio. he looks at tobio’s red-bitten lips and wonders if he feels the same.—if he also feels the lingering touch and taste of akira on his lips. akira wants tobio to taste him forever.)

(tobio does.)

* * *

Sadness comes in a form of Tobio accompanying him to the nearest 7/11 by Seijoh and mumbling, “Hinata’s leaving after graduation.”

Akira doesn’t let the words affect him much as he looks through multiple cans of tea. “Leaving? Yeah, that’s what happens.”

“No,” Tobio says a little more firmly and Akira turns to him in confusion. “He’s leaving. Out of Japan.”

Akira’s fingers freeze in reaching out for some Arizona Tea and he blinks at him. “Leaving?”

“Leaving,” Tobio echoes and his brows furrow. “He’s going to Brazil.”

“Oh,” Akira says softly, feels like he’s been dropped a bomb on. He looks at Tobio and aches. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tobio mumbles again and Akira, unthinking, quickly grabs hold of his hand. Tobio squeezes it rather tightly and glares at the aisle full of junk food. “He’s leaving right after graduation.”

Akira wanted to scream then, of long distances and of pained friendships. Instead, he walked home with Tobio and held his hand tightly. He talked for him, talked of college exams and college courses and college pains. He talked and talked and whispered, the frequent yet sudden squeezes of Tobio’s hand against his familiar and warm.

When it was time for him to leave, Akira had mentioned of Soy and how she missed Tobio a bit too much. He whispered of next plans and Shouyou and held his hand a little too tightly. He thinks his palms are sweaty. Tobio looked up at his house and let out a soft sigh.

“Go rest,” Akira mutters and makes Tobio face him. “Can’t have Japan’s setter all sad and gloomy.”

At that, Tobio had let out a bashful smile and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess,” he mumbles and smiles at Akira. It was one of Akira’s favorite smiles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Akira mumbles to him then and slowly and regretfully lets go of his hand. With a sudden burst of confidence, he leans closer and presses a soft kiss at the corner of Tobio’s mouth. His lips hover for a moment, almost a minute of a kiss as he presses his lips again. This time, he hopes Tobio hears it. The _i love you_. The _please kiss me again_. The _please choose me this time_.

When he waves goodbye, Tobio stares at him with hooded eyes and a blush on his cheeks. Akira hopes it’s a good reason.

“Hey, Kunimi,” Shouyou asks him, laying on his bed inside Akira’s bedroom, a week before graduation. Tobio was somewhere in his house, kicked out by Shouyou because he wanted ‘private time with Kunimi’. It had made him frown a little. “Do you like Kageyama?”

Akira pauses in going through his phone and lets it slip in between his fingers. “Huh?”

Shouyou shifts closer, moving himself up towards his pillows and lays peacefully. Akira marvels at how close he and Shouyou had gotten—he’s lying on his bed with his cat. Akira blinks at him. “Kageyama,” Shouyou says simply. “I heard you kissed him.”

Akira watches as Soy walks over Shouyou’s chest and settles herself by his neck, pawing at his jaw. Shouyou giggles and kisses her nose. Akira can hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Who told you?”

He watches impatiently as Shouyou giggles and cuddles Soy. “Kageyama, duh,” Shouyou says after a minute and smiles up at Akira again. “Did you like it?”

 _Did I like it?_ Akira repeats the question to himself as Shouyou lays beside him, hands underneath Soy and lifting her up and putting her on his face with a laugh. _Did I like it?_ God. Akira loved it. He’d loved it too much—had replayed the memory in his mind rent-free. Had spent countless of times alone in his bedroom, running his fingers over his lips and muffling screams onto his pillow; had spent countless of times looking at Tobio and his bitten lips and wide eyes and thought _please let me kiss you again. Please kiss me again_.

Akira realizes belatedly that he’s been running a finger along his lips, just to feel that familiar tingle again. His eyes widen and he looks at Shouyou, whose face is covered by Soy. He looks at him weirdly before thinking of their kiss again and—covers his mouth with his hand.

Oh god.

“Kunimi?” Shouyou asks, voice muffled and lifts Soy away from his face. Akira watches as Shouyou flails for a minute, trying to cough out her fur. He really doesn’t know why he’s being flustered around this idiot.

“You didn’t answer me!” Shouyou sits up and faces Akira with a smile. Soy jumps off the bed and lays on the floor. Akira repeats Shouyou’s question in his mind. _Did you like it? Did you like it when Kageyama kissed you, all soft and then hurried, like he was needing it? Like he was craving for it for years? Did you like it when he pushed his thumb against your mouth, warm and salty? Did you like it, Kunimi?_

Akira looks at Shouyou’s bright eyes and wants to punch him.

“What’s it to you?” Akira asks instead and Shouyou frowns at his question.

“Well,” Shouyou shrugs, “Kageyama’s my best friend! I wouldn’t want him getting hurt over you.”

Then, Shouyou fixes him an intimidating glare and Akira blinks. It was almost as if they were in a match, a net separating them. He felt his body shudder and he quickly looks away from Shouyou’s gaze.

“Kidding!” Shouyou laughs and leans closer to Akira. “But I’m serious! Did you like it?”

Akira looks back and scrunches his nose when it brushes against Shouyou’s. “I did,” he says firmly and glares a little. Shouyou’s smile doesn’t fade. “Why, did he?”

“Hm,” Shouyou hums and his gaze feels calculating, how his eyes flicker between Akira’s eyes and lips. “Yeah. He liked it when you did this,” and then, Shouyou leans in and presses a soft kiss on the corner of Akira’s mouth.

Then, Shouyou leans back and laughs, head thrown back. Akira feels his face heat up and he stares at Shouyou in shock. “Oh, man!” Shouyou laughs and peeks at him before bursting into laughter again. “Your face!”

“Wha—” Akira splutters out and Shouyou laughs harder. “What— _Why did you do that_?”

Shouyou tries to stop laughing (keyword: tries) and straightens up, even though his hand is shaky at the way he tries to cover his mouth. “You asked!”

“I,” Akira gasps in disbelief and shakes his head almost animatedly. “I _asked_ , not for you to do it!”

Shouyou pouts at him then, even if he looks a bit stupid with the corners of his lips shaking and teasing with a laugh. “Don’t worry, Kunimi,” he giggles behind his hand and Akira feels like he’s been given the legal obligation to kill. “I won’t steal you from Yamayama!”

“You—You aren’t stealing me from _anyone_ ,” Akira whisper-shouts at him, only feeling his face heat up even more. Oh, god. This is why he hates being alone with Shouyou. He feels like he’s been tormented and played with by God. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Shouyou fixes him a look this time, serious and calculating and then scrunches up his nose. “Oh,” he says instead and lays back down. He calls out to Soy and she quickly jumps up to his chest. Akira glares at her. _Traitor_. “You’re just dumb.”

Akira blinks in surprise. “ _What_?”

Shouyou doesn’t answer him. He makes soft and cute noises at Soy and she meows back cutely. Akira wants to push him off his bed.

Then, just when Akira is accepting of his fate with Shouyou, the other turns to him, quiet and serious. Akira watches as Shouyou licks his lips before saying, “I trust you; you know?”

“What?”

“Hm,” Shouyou frowns and sits up a little on his elbows. He looks back at Akira and asks him, “You’ll choose Kageyama, right?”

Akira looks at him and feels his throat dry up and his hands to shake. What does that even mean? Of course, he’ll always choose Tobio. It had taken his hands to shake a little too hard for him to snap out of it and to say—“Of course. I’ll always choose him.”

Shouyou looks away from Soy and grins up at him. “I knew you’d say that! Take care of him while I’m gone, okay?”

Akira spends his graduation night with the rest of the volleyball club, and even feels his chest lighten at the way the previous third years had visited them. His heart aches in a way it hasn’t had for years when his shoulders meets Oikawa Tooru’s and how Iwaizumi Hajime’s hand ruffles his hair. His heart aches in the way his laugh matches with the entire club, how Hanamaki Takahiro’s jokes are still so plain and unfunny, and how Matsukawa Issei saves it with his own humor. He wonders if Karasuno’s previous third years visited them, too.

Akira spends the next few days with Tobio and Shouyou, talking of college exams and what he’ll take. Shouyou had gasped in wonder when he told them of him taking Accountancy, and how Shouyou had joked of him being rich. Akira and Tobio had looked at Shouyou then, warm and happy, and wanted so badly to keep him to themselves.

Akira spends the next days at the airport, along with countless of others and said goodbye to Shouyou. Shouyou hugged him then, close and tight and cheeks wet. Akira whispered to him of missing him, and of texting and catching up, and of never forgetting. He’d held Tobio’s hand in his and kept quiet in the way Tobio’s eyes focus on the floor and the way his teeth had gotten too comfortable in biting his bottom lip. Akira wanted to kiss his sadness away.

Then, a few days later, Tobio tells Akira, voice hushed yet excited, of him joining Japan’s V. League, of him joining the national team and his eyes were so beautiful then—how they shone and lit up, looking at Akira. He’d smiled then, hands tight around Tobio’s sweaty ones. He’d whispered of _i’m proud of you_ and of _i knew you’d be japan’s setter one day_ and Tobio had looked at him with high blush on his cheeks and with a bashful smile. Akira had wanted to kiss him, so he did.

He held Tobio’s face in his hands and pulled him to his lips. He’d kissed with all the love he could give him, felt his breath shudder against his, the slow smile of Tobio’s lips. He’d kissed Tobio and pretended it was still real.

(akira wanted to tell him then—if they could just—stop it then. stop the pretending and the faking. akira had wanted to kiss tobio and let him know that he wanted it, not because they were fake dating, but because he loved him and wanted to kiss him for him. akira wanted and kept quiet. tobio looked at him with questioning eyes and kissed the corner of his mouth.)

(it had been hard—how akira and tobio had blurred the lines between fake and real. akira wanted so badly to shout at tobio’s face; _why won’t you ask me? why won’t you tell me how you feel? why do you still pretend with me?_

akira wonders what he’d do if tobio were the one to scream at him instead.)

When Akira opens his eyes, he’s by a cliff at night, the air warm yet cold against his cheeks. His hands grip at the grass beneath him and he looks up. Huh. There’s two moons.

He looks down and swings his feet by the edge of the cliff and marvels at the water beneath the cliff, crashing and pushing at the ends of the cliff. The sound of the crashing waves ring in his ears and he stares at it, stares at the crashing and the way it waves at him. He wonders if this is a dream. He waves back.

There’s this heavy presence that tugs at Akira, the slow yet quick building presence of something—someone heavy, like someone he isn’t supposed to meet. When he turns to his side, he’s face-to-face with a Bakunawa.

Huh.

Bakunawa.

Akira has read of them once, when he was bored. He’d stumbled upon a website that was full of Philippine folklore and had spent all night reading about their mythology. The Bakunawa was his favorite.

It would swallow the moon whole, he remembers. How in the ancient times, the Philippines had seven moons and the Bakunawa swallowed six of them. Akira looks up at the moons and the wonders. Another story, Akira read, is how the Bakunawa fell in love with a girl from a tribe and ate the moons in anger when the tribe killed her. Akira looks up at the moons again and wonders.

The Bakunawa breathes a warm puff of smoke and Akira turns to it. It hisses out its tongue like a snake and Akira looks at it, its green scales and the way its tail wags. Akira doesn’t know how it’s sitting next to him in this tiny cliff.

Then, it whispered something to him, slippery and haste, _the ache in your chest will stay in your grave unless you act_.

Akira blinks. He swings his feet and looks down at the crashing of the waves. There’s a bunch of volleyballs floating. The ache in his chest twists painfully inside him and he flinches lightly, ignoring the urge to clutch at his chest in pain.

“Why do you eat the moon?” he asks instead and looks at the Bakunawa. Its eyes are golden and red, staring at him with flickers of silver inside it. Akira looks closer and wonders if it’s blood or water dripping down its mouth. Its tongue slips out in a hiss and Akira closes his eyes, waiting for some spit or poison to spill at him.

 _Do you not see?_ it whispers again, nudging its head to the moons and Akira looks up again. He wonders what’s it like to taste the moon in your tongue. He aches to taste Tobio again. _For its beauty, I ravish it. I look at the moons and wonder what it would taste like beneath my tongue. Its beauty and wisdom kisses my mouth like honey. Do you not feel the same way?_

Akira looks at the moons and sees blue eyes and teeth-bitten lips instead. He looks back at the Bakunawa, ignoring its question. “Are you gonna eat me?”

Heat and smoke envelopes Akira and he thinks the Bakunawa is chuckling. It settles beside him, its body warm and scaly against his outstretched arm. The grass beneath his hand smokes and fires away. Akira looks at the Bakunawa and wonders how it carries both fire and water in its wake.

 _No_ , it chuckles at him, huffing out a breathe of smoke and Akira follows the droplets of water that follows it. _This is merely a dream, Akira. A figment of your imagination in your death-like state_.

“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down at his swinging feet and fists the grass beneath him. He brings his hand up and looks down at the grass and dirt in his grasp. In a split second, it morphs into a familiar hand, calloused and neat, nails filed to a short. In a split second, it curls its fingers into Akira’s, and he lets out a short and sudden breath. And in a split second, it fades into fire and grass, warm and soft in Akira’s palm.

He looks back up at the moons. “Are you gonna eat both of the moons?”

 _What do you think, Akira?_ it hisses to him, body humming and moving. _If I were to choose between two, I will. But I cannot. My mouth wills me to do so._ Akira doesn’t know if it’s the Bakunawa nudging its head towards his arm or if he’s feeling things. _What about you, Akira? Have you chosen between the two moons?_

Akira blinks at the moons, watches as one turns to brown and one turns to blue. He lets out a sigh, watches as his breath turns to smoke and fire in front of him. He looks back down at his palms, at the fire resting and wonders if it is of any difference to Tobio’s warm hands.

Akira watches in slow fright as the fire slowly licks away to his wrists, the once-warm fire heating up and burning and burning and _burningburningburningburning **burning**_.

**_the fire licks away at your wrists and palms and you feel the touch of a boy with blue eyes and dark hair and how his mouth is as warm as the fire burning your skin_ **

He looks at the Bakunawa for help. He feels his breath stop by the end of his throat as the Bakunawa stares at him back, dripping down in blood and smoke. Its eyes never leaves Akira’s as its long body slowly melts into a puddle of blood beside Akira. Its eyes, still so full of life and gold, gets consumed by blood and smoke and Akira watches in horror.

 _Akira_ , it whispers to him in haste and alarm and he whimpers back, fingers finding solace in his burning palms. _Be cautious of your words and actions. The anger and pity in your soul warms your cold hands now yet you will die with it ringing in your ears. Don’t be afraid to love and be loved_.

And then, with its burning and bloody head, the Bakunawa shifts closer to Akira and pushes him off the cliff. In a split second, the head turns into bloody hands and Akira looks up to see Tobio, pushing him off the cliff.

“ _Fuck_!” he shouts as he falls, tasting blood in his mouth as he looks up, catching the Bakunawa’s eyes. Beside him stands Tobio, enveloped by fire and smoke. “ _Why the fuck did you push me?_ ”

Akira lets out a scream and closes his eyes, waiting for the crash and push of the deathful waves onto his body.

Akira gasps, almost vomiting out nothing, opening his eyes and staring at his bedroom ceiling. The sun greets him warmly.

He looks down at his chest, heavy and hard to breath, and is face-to-face with Soy’s large eyes. She meows gently at him, pawing at his jaw.

“Soy,” he gasps out and hugs her close to his chest. She meows loudly yet bumps her head against his jaw. “Fuck, good morning, baby.”

Soy meows and licks at his chin. “Just a dream,” he breathes out, letting his head fall back to his pillow as he looks at the ceiling in pain. “Just a dream.”

Dreams were too hard these days, especially with college looming in and Akira’s feelings still being put inside a blender. Soy meows and bumps her head on his chin. He quickly places a hand on her head and gently scratches.

“It’s okay, Soy,” he breathes out, blinking out of his state, blinking out the image of the Bakunawa-Tobio. “Just a dream.”

And then, his schedule for the day flashes in front of him. Classes starting in two hours. Classes ending an hour early. A movie date with Tobio.

Akira had promised himself that he’d—that he’d say it today.

Soy meows and he sits up a little and places her in his lap. “Yeah,” he whispers, scratching under her chin. “I’m gonna tell him today.”

Soy meows. “I know. If he doesn’t feel the same way, it’s okay.”

Soy blinks up at him and he groans, bumping his head against hers. “He’s gonna be understanding, no?”

Soy meows and jumps off his lap and off his bed. Akira follows her disappearing figure and lays back down. “Yeah.”

(Fake) Dating a soon-to-be professional volleyball player made Akira doubt himself and on his commitment issues, but, once, Tobio had waited for him after class, hours after his training, and had mumbled of promised dinners and spending time with each other. Akira had kisses him softly underneath the university lights and vowed to himself that maybe, things are worth trying out. (Even if he tried it out already months ago, under the guise of fake dating and jealousy.)

Here is Kunimi Akira’s plan to make Kageyama Tobio his (with the help of Soy the cat and maybe Hinata Shouyou):

  1. Movie date with him, Akira doesn’t really know the movie they’re about to watch
  2. Hold Tobio’s hands tenderly and sweetly throughout the movie
  3. After the movie, while they’re eating dinner, Akira will gently brush off Tobio’s bangs out of his eyes and look at him
  4. Akira will be poetic, will make himself cry and maybe make Tobio tear up, will talk of hidden feelings and forbidden kisses
  5. Akira has two endings for this: 
    1. Tobio will smile and kiss him back
    2. Tobio will smile, although sadly, and say he doesn’t feel the same way
  6. Akira is sure of this one ending: in the end, he will accept whatever Tobio says and he will love him still, quietly and by himself, like he’s always done the past few years



Here is what happens instead:

An hour before the movie, Akira is mulling over his words and what it would be like to kiss Tobio for the last time. Akira’s phone vibrates and he eagerly takes it out, expecting to see a text from Tobio. Maybe practice got cancelled early. Maybe they’d get to spend more time together—more time for Akira to ready himself and to tell Tobio what he feels.

Akira sees this instead:

**KINDAICHI (don’t answer anymore)**

> Akira?

> Are you there? please answer me

> I need you

> Please

This is what happens instead:

Tobio stands alone, in the middle of the cinema. Akira’s voicemail answers him, the robotic female voice echoing in his head. His messages finds its end in being sent into delivered only. Tobio stands alone, in the middle of the cinema, convincing himself that maybe Akira’s just late. Maybe this is some misunderstanding.

Tobio stands alone, inside the cinema, watching the colorful screen. His fingers curl against themselves and he bites at his worry-bitten lips.

Tobio sits alone, in their favorite after-movies restaurant, scrolling through his phone and refreshing messages. Tobio sits alone, tries to convince himself that this is all a misunderstanding, maybe Akira’s just busy. Maybe there was just a sudden change of plans.

Tobio sits alone and tries to convince himself.

The bottle inside of Tobio’s chest cracks and bursts—old wounds reopening again. Tobio had learned to keep it all inside, had learned to take it easy, yet he feels himself drowning again. He’d learned of keeping it all, of learning how to heal, of learning how to understand, of learning how to not _think so much_.

Yet the bottle bursts and cracks, pieces and pieces of glass hitting his chest with intent to hurt. The glass cuts and slices except this time, Tobio has learned how to keep it all inside him, quiet and to himself. Tobio has since learned how to keep all the messed-up feelings and emotions inside him, quiet yet bursting. Tobio has since learned to know when to stop. Has since learned the difference of _had enough of_ and _got tired of_. Tobio has since learned that things will never go his way, things always end up like before. He’d always readied himself for this, for the eventual yet familiar pain to come back but.

He just didn’t expect for it to happen again, three years later.

**akira ^___^ <3**

> Hey. This is Kindaichi.

> Akira’s busy right now. Sorry.


	2. think that’ll stay

_you were right, back when—i have built a you within me,_

_or you have._

_i wonder what of me there is in you._

**—** **Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone** , _This is How You Lose the Time War_

Once, when Tobio was sixteen, with his eyes wet and swollen from his tears, with his throat all clogged up, past and worst memories clawing up his throat and trying to make a home inside of him, Miwa had combed his bangs out of his hair and told him a story. Her voice was shaky then, fingers trembling too much and too hard that he felt in the way they brushed against his forehead. Her voice trembled then, how her loud and strong voice hushed down to a whisper, how she talked of being fifteen and being in love.

It had distracted Tobio a little. He’d sniffled and looked at his still trembling hands. “I don’t think I met him,” he whispered, not looking away from the floor.

“No,” Miwa whispered, the sad tale of a smile in her voice. “You wouldn’t have met her.”

It confused Tobio then, the slow process of her words in his mind, the never-ending combing of her fingers through his hair. He looked up then and whispered, “yeah?”

Tobio used to be afraid of looking at her right in the eyes, how he felt so small and stupid and childish in her gaze, yet for tonight, her eyes held the familiar pain and sadness in his. “Yeah,” Miwa whispered, a smile on her lips. “She was my first love.”

“Where is she?”

Miwa shrugs then and gave his hair one last ruffle before dropping her hand back down next to her. It twitched lightly against her thighs and Tobio looked back at his hands. “Somewhere, happy, I hope,” she answered, voice sad and traces of nostalgic memory clipping away at the ends. “It used to hurt—used to hurt me for years.”

“Years?” Tobio croaked out, scared and small. His hands started to shake again, and he wanted so badly to rip them away from his wrists. Miwa shifted on his bed and the movement made Tobio remember—remember what it’s like to be alive and to breathe.

“Remember how I didn’t eat any cheesecake for five years?” Miwa had let out a laugh full of tears, and Tobio ached then—hurt more than he ever did. He wished so bad to have the comfortability to hug her as tightly as he could. “It was her favorite thing to eat in the world. It made me sick seeing it.”

“Did it disappear?” Tobio asked after minutes of silence. He wondered why Miwa was still here, why she was still comforting him. “The pain? The…the hurt? Did they go away?”

“Of course, it does,” Miwa whispered, pain lacing her voice as her fingers found comfort on his hair again, combing them and making his hunched shoulders relax. “The pain always goes away, even if it takes too long. It always goes away.”

Tobio felt his lips quiver then, the slow rising of tears against his eyes and the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. He didn’t stop it then, the falling of his tears and the sob that wretches itself out of his throat. He’d buried his face deep into his hands and let his throat burn and ache with the sobs that claw out of it. It had hurt so much, the sobs that clawed out, the harsh whining of his breathing, the way his lips trembled too much.

Miwa had let out a soft _oh, tobio_ and was quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It wasn’t enough yet it was. Tobio’s chest had hurt in the most painful way and his throat had clawed itself out and laid down on the floor in front of him. Miwa’s arms were heavy and warm on his shoulders and she had whispered how he was loved and how he wouldn’t go through the same shit she went through. Tobio can still hear the way she choked through her tears.

Tobio can still remember it all.

Tobio thinks of what Miwa said then, three years ago, of how he wouldn’t go through what she went through. How he’s loved. Tobio wonders why he’s so hard to love—why he gives out too much, loves too much, yet crumbles in the way no one does the same for him.

Tobio thinks of what Miwa had said then, and wonders if he should believe her. Was she telling lies? Or maybe Tobio was just different—different from his eccentric of a sister, who always had people falling in love with her. Tobio was just—Tobio.

He was just him.

And it ached sometimes, most times, how the weight of that realization crashed onto him, how Shouyou’s stupid plan had backfired, had failed right in front of him. It ached, Tobio’s chest and bones and veins, how he held all this love for people, despite it all.

Tobio grips onto his gym bag and wonders. The sound of his shoes against the gravel echoes into the cold night and the yellow streetlights illuminates his hunched shadow. He stops walking, the harsh sound of foam and plastic scraping against gravel made him flinch, but then, he looks at the gravel, at his used-to-the-bone shoes, and—breathes.

It’s been two days, a whole forty-eight hours. Still no message from Akira. Tobio wonders. Hasn’t stopped wondering.

His teeth find itself comfort on his bottom lip again but this time, he winces, and a hand raises to brush against it. It was funny, how Akira had always chastised him on the way he bites his lips, on the way blood and bruises form and yet. And yet Akira had kissed him days ago, harsh yet soft, teeth biting down his lips a bit too hard, eliciting a soft sound from Tobio and for his lips to form blood against Akira’s mouth.

Akira had laughed giddily, pulled away and smiled at Tobio with blood staining his lips. “Sorry,” he’d whispered, voice soft and low, as it had always been with Tobio. (was his voice also soft and low with yutaro?) He kissed him again, softer and licked at his lips and Tobio whimpered. Akira had mumbled of pretty noises and pretty boys and had swiped a finger against Tobio’s bruised lips.

It’s been days and yet.

Tobio can still feel him. Can still taste him. Tobio wishes he doesn’t.

(he can’t. has akira bitten and kissed all over him, his touch and kiss a permanent mark on tobio’s skin. it irked him a little, how he loves it, how he’d craved it, how he wishes for it to stay forever, for akira to do it again)

Tobio stares at his gravel-littered shoes and brushes a finger against his lips instead. His tongue swipes out and wets them, making the bruise hurt a little less. He thinks if the hurt inside of him, swirling and growing and growing, will ease soon.

Somewhere, a cat meows, rattling a trashcan. Somewhere, a streetlight flickers, the noise echoing around the empty streets. Somewhere, a boy stands in the middle of the streetlights, a familiar ache coming back, making a home again.

Tobio looks up, at the infinite darkness and tries to find the stars amidst the pollution, amidst the streetlights. He lets out a slow breath. He’d once read somewhere, how you aren’t really looking up, how the Milky Way and the galaxies have no sense of up and down. Tobio looks at the vast sky and hovers, heart clawing out his throat as his eyes adjust and he sees it then, the slow and gentle appearance of the stars in the sky.

For a moment, Tobio lets himself disappear, lets himself take it all in, the sadness, the pain, the galaxies, the universe. He lets himself be a part of the universe itself, a stray planet in the Milky Way, alone and confused, wandering and wondering around the vast darkness and coldness. For a moment, Tobio disappears.

Then, he closes his eyes and lets out a breath, one that isn’t so much different from the previous ones, but it makes his insides shaky, the slow rise of the eventual settling in his bones.

Then, he looks at the stars again and breathes again.

No time for crying tonight, Tobio. Not tonight.

But maybe, you’ll be part of the galaxy for a while. Let yourself be a part of it for now.

When he reaches home, the stars settling themselves inside his veins and softly kissing the pain, he stops by the gate and blinks.

Someone’s sleeping in front of their front door. All curled up, legs brought up to their chest, bag hugged between their arms and legs and a jacket covering their face. Tobio stands still. What the fuck.

His gym bag, full of sweaty and smelly clothes, feels a bit too heavy and he wonders if he can use it to—to what? He stares at the figure and wonders if his years of training and volleyball can protect him.

He eyes the empty and dark house. No one’s at home right now.

The figure shifts. Tobio readies himself. The jacket shifts then falls.

Tobio breathes.

Tobio feels his hunched shoulders relax a bit too heavily as the sleeping figure of Akira shifts and turns in the uncomfortable concrete floor, arms tightening their grip on his bag and Tobio lets out a huff of a laugh. Dear god.

Tobio can’t even be mad anymore as he looks at Akira, the curled-up body of his, the jacket that over his face. Tobio realizes after a moment of staring at it that it belongs to him, a small moment of the past where Tobio had thrown it over Akira’s shoulders after waiting for him after class. It didn’t occur to him that Akira never returned it.

Then, it whispers at the back of his mind. _That’s because he’s returning it tonight. This is the last time you’ll see him. This is your goodbye to him_.

Tobio closes his eyes and sighs. Can he just shut up for a moment?

A groan comes out of Akira’s mouth and Tobio jumps a little. Without even thinking, he quickly walks over to Akira and squats down to his figure. Akira’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and his arms tighten a bit painfully around his bag. Tobio frowns.

He inches closer and pokes Akira. He doesn’t budge.

“Kunimi,” he whispers. “Hey.”

Akira doesn’t wake up; his brows only furrow a little bit more and Tobio feels himself pout as minutes of silence stretch on except for Akira’s heavy breathing. Tobio eyes the bag in between Akira’s arms and wonders. Thinks. Debates.

(at this point, tobio wonders if shouyou left his stupidity with him)

Tobio pulls at Akira’s bag and simultaneously shakes at Akira’s shoulders. In this moment, Tobio has chosen death in a battle with the universe.

In a flash, Tobio’s eyesight darkens and his back hits the ground with almost a crack and he lets out a sudden gasp as he stares at the sky. The stars greet him again. His head is spinning.

Then, “Oh my _fucking god_. _Kageyama_?”

Akira’s blurry face covers the night sky and Tobio has a sudden flashing thought, if this is how his life will always be. A blur of pretty boys and prettier voices and prettiest lips.

Hands on his face, worrying and fleeting, hushed, worried voice, eyes glazing over his face rapidly and quickly. Tobio blinks.

“What?”

“Kageyama,” Akira breathes out, hands around his cheek and Tobio jumps a little at the contact.

Jesus, what happened to him?

“Sorry,” Akira mumbles then, eyes full of apology and regret. “I thought you were—I thought you were someone else.”

Tobio mulls over his words and blinks again. This time, he feels the pain. He feels it pulsate against his face and he flinches before sitting up a little and stares up Akira. He doesn’t pull away, instead his nose brushes softly against Tobio’s and—oh.

“Fuck,” Tobio says suddenly, looking down at his pants and freezes when he sees blood drip down to the ground, barely missing his sweatpants. “ _Fuck_?”

“I’m so sorry,” Akira rushes out and Tobio looks up at him in confusion. “Fuck, I don’t even—I’m sorry for punching you.”

Tobio blinks. Blood drips down to lips and his tongue swipes out, Akira’s eyes drifting down quickly to look at it. Tobio tastes the metallic tang of blood and he cringes. Akira’s hands around his cheeks tighten again and he looks at him. Pain flows from all parts of his face and it’s then he realizes that he’s trying hard to breath, every inhale through his nose is sharp and pinching at him. He lets out a small cough and watches as droplets of blood splatter at the ground and on Akira’s jeans.

“You punched me,” Tobio mumbles and Akira’s face frowns again, brows curling and tongue swiping out at his bottom lip. Tobio wants to kiss him, wants Akira to taste the blood in his mouth. “Fuck.”

Then, it bubbles out of him, the soft laughter that he can’t seem to stop, even when the pain pulses through him. “You _punched_ me,” he laughs out, feels more blood drip down his chin and Akira’s eyes widen, hands tightening and Tobio flinches.

“Fuck, sorry,” Akira mumbles again, hands pulling away from him and to settle between his lap. Tobio stares at them and feels his eyesight blur.

“Fuck,” he says again. This is the most he’s said that word. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Can you stand up?” Akira asks him and Tobio looks at him again, eyes blurring with tears and nose tingling. Tobio wants to rip it off his face.

Akira must’ve noticed it, the way Tobio has gone quiet and the way his body swayed without him knowing. In a flash, Tobio was standing up, arm around Akira’s steady shoulders and he looks at him. Breathes. Tries not to cough on his blood.

“I’m really sorry,” Akira mumbles, helping him walk and avoiding his eyes. “I’ll clean you up.”

Tobio breathes. Stares at how in-sync their footsteps are. Left. Right. Left. Right. Oh.

“Tobio,” Akira murmurs and Tobio looks at him and feels all pain disappear, feels numb instead. God. Is his body just gonna go through five stages of grief or something? “Where are your keys?”

Tobio feels himself nod, or he hopes he is. “Pocket,” he mumbles, breathes deeply again. “In my bag.”

Tobio doesn’t really know what happens next—the way Akira moves swiftly to get at his bag, the jingle of keys, and then, the opening of lights that makes the pain in Tobio’s head to come back, knocking all over.

“Fuck,” he says again, feels like it’s the only word he can properly say. “Bedroom, please?”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a breathe of laughter from Akira and still, Tobio smiles. Even when blood drips down his shirt, even when he can’t determine if he’s smiling or not, even when he can’t feel his whole face. Jesus.

It’s still so blurry, how Akira helps him up, how his head spins and stops and spins again, how the flickering of lights illuminate their shadows, obscuring Tobio’s vision. It’s all so blurry. Tobio wonders if he’ll be able to play volleyball again.

“Stupid,” Akira laughs, sitting him down on his bed and pressing something against his nose. This, Tobio realizes with a hiss, is an ice pack. “Of course, you’ll still get to play. You aren’t injured.”

Tobio blinks and holds onto the ice pack for him. He presses it and takes a deep breath. He feels like he’s gaining consciousness or something. Did he say that out loud? And where’d this ice come from?

“Yes, you said those out loud,” Akira says and Tobio blinks up at him in surprise. “And that’s from your kitchen. We passed by it before coming here. And _stop talking_.”

Tobio hopes he stopped talking, or maybe voicing out his thoughts. He doesn’t know how long he sat there, leaned forward a bit because Akira told him to. Tobio wonders if Akira has had his nose punched before, or if he punched someone else.

Someone pulls the ice pack away from his nose and Tobio looks up. Akira’s wiping on his nose gently with a wash cloth. “The bleedings stopped,” he mumbles and Tobio breathes out. He hasn’t tasted the metallic taste of blood in minutes. He wonders what would’ve happened to him if he just stayed there on the ground and Akira left him instead. He wonders if Akira’s that cruel.

It’s quiet between them now, even in Tobio’s thoughts. Akira kneels in front of him and wipes at his blood, at the dried-up ones. Akira’s touch is gentle and soft, the washcloth barely touching his skin and Tobio wonders if he’s even getting any of the blood off. Akira’s other hand settles on the bed, close to his resting hand, as he leans up a little and washes his face even more.

“I’m really sorry,” Akira murmurs, eyes avoiding his as he continues to wash off the blood, touch getting a little harder. Tobio wonders what he looks like right now. “I just—I didn’t expect you.”

“At my own house?” Tobio mumbles and smiles when Akira pauses in washing him to glare at him. “It’s okay. Maybe this is…”

“Is?” Akira says, looking at him and Tobio stares back and—breathes. Breathes a little more easily now. Looks at Akira a little clearer. He wonders if those are tear tracks in his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Tobio huffs out and closes his eyes. “Just is.”

“Okay,” there’s a hint of laughter in Akira’s voice and he pulls away from Tobio. “I’m gonna change the washcloth. Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay,” Tobio mumbles back, even after Akira’s stood up. He wonders if he can even move right now, if he can will his body to do so. After everything that has happened, it seems like his body just decided to—release all tiredness and pain inside. Tobio rests his elbows on his knees and tries to open his eyes, stares at his familiar bedroom floor, and finds that it’s even painful to do so.

“Hey,” Akira’s voice rings in his ears and Tobio looks up from his hands. “You okay?”

Tobio nods. Akira kneels again. The washcloth is cold from the water and Tobio relaxes, sighing softly. Akira’s touch is gentler and softer, his other hand coming up to hold Tobio’s jaw.

“I’m really sorry,” Akira mumbles again, regret and sorry lacing his voice and Tobio looks at him. “I thought you were some thief.”

Tobio smiles, a breath of a laugh. “That’s okay. I pulled at you like some maniac.”

Akira’s thumb rubs circles against his jaw and Tobio takes in a shaky breath. Akira’s eyes are gentle and beautiful, Tobio wonders if kissing him right now would be okay.

“All done,” Akira whispers and puts the washcloth down. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

Tobio does. Akira takes off his shirt for him and looks at the blood-stained shirt. After a moment, Tobio looks away from the floor and at Akira’s quiet figure. “Is it that bad?”

Akira’s eyes meet his and he doesn’t miss the way his eyes glaze over his naked torso. Tobio blinks. Akira clears his throat and says, “It’s okay. I’ll clean it for you.”

Tobio pouts, eyesight getting blurry again. “You’re doing a lot for me. Is that okay?”

Akira walks closer and kneels again, hands resting on Tobio’s knees and his eyes are wide and honest and Tobio wants to look at them forever. “Of course, it’s okay,” he murmurs, lips curling into a pout and Tobio is so close to kissing him again. “I’d do anything for you.”

And then, Tobio’s body violently shivers and Akira pulls away in shock. They both stare at each other for a moment before Tobio lets out a laugh, staring at Akira. “Ah, sorry,” he laughs and leans forward when he finds himself leaning back. “I’m cold.”

Tobio watches as Akira laughs a little before standing up and walking over to his closet. Tobio realizes it then, the familiarity of everything, how Akira moves around his own room like it’s his own, like he’s been here for years. Tobio looks at Akira, at how he fits in his little room, how his movements are graceful yet familiar, his figure hunched over Tobio’s closet and moving stuff around, looking at his hoodies and shirts. Tobio looks and loves.

When Akira comes back, he’s holding a hoodie that Tobio knows Akira loves on him. He doesn’t know how but he does, and he smiles at Akira when he’s in front of him. “Put your arms up,” Akira murmurs and Tobio looks at him in confusion. “I’ll put it on for you.”

Ah. Tobio does again and Akira walks closer, stands in-between his legs and his touch is gentle as he makes sure to let the hoodie fit Tobio perfectly and softly. When Tobio’s head pops out of the familiar hoodie, Akira’s smile is gentle, and his eyes hold so much that Tobio feels like he shouldn’t be looking at him.

(tobio wonders if he looks at akira the same way)

“Does your nose still hurt?” Akira asks then, hands coming up to comb through Tobio’s hair and Tobio leans closer to the touch, a sigh leaving his lips and his fingers twitching by his thighs to just—wrap themselves around Akira’s body.

“Not really,” Tobio remembers to answer and feels his face heat up. Akira’s fingers continue to comb through his hair and it’s then, Tobio realizes he’s sleepy, tired, nervous, in love. “Is it swelling?”

Akira leans back and his fingers drift down to cup Tobio’s face and tilts his head up a little. Tobio looks at Akira, the way his bedroom lights halo around him, the sudden tiredness and anxiousness Tobio sees on his face, the way his lips look bitten, and the way his eyes soften and glaze over his face. His thumbs rub circles on his cheeks and Tobio breathes out.

“No,” Akira mumbles and moves closer, “not swelling, not really.”

“Good,” Tobio breathes out. Silence blankets them and then, “Am I allowed to lie down?”

Akira snorts out a laugh and nods, a smile lacing his voice. “Yeah,” he answers and squeezes Tobio’s cheeks. “You can lie down.”

No one moves, Akira’s hand stays on Tobio’s cheeks and Tobio looks at him the same. Akira brushes a thumb against Tobio’s cheek and Tobio lets out a shuddering breath. When was the last time Akira held him like this? Why does it all feel so intimate and familiar, when they aren’t even together?

Oh.

Ah.

They aren’t together.

Right.

“Is everything okay?” Akira murmurs, eyebrows furrowed. “Is it hurting?”

“Yes,” Tobio answers, because he can’t lie. Not now. Not when his feelings and emotions are barreling into him like a truck. “I’m sorry.”

Akira’s hands tighten around his cheeks. “Don’t say sorry,” he whispers firmly and squeezes his cheeks again, making his lips form into a pout. “Wait here, I have painkillers in my bag.”

Akira moves away and Tobio misses him already, even when he’s in front of him. His cheeks grow cold without Akira’s warmth and touch and he misses him. God. Tobio wants to sleep forever.

Akira comes back with painkillers and a water bottle and Tobio takes it quietly, thanks him quietly. Wants Akira to stay by his side. His hand finds Akira’s wrist and he battles it over his head for a moment, wonders if he should say fuck it right now. “Can you stay?”

He doesn’t look at Akira, but he feels his fingers on his hair again and his soft murmur, “Of course, yeah, I’ll stay.”

Akira gives him all the pillows because he says that he once read that one should elevate their head to reduce pain. Tobio doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t really know anything. He lies down and mumbles for Akira to lie down next to him, says there’s a lot of space for him, even if Tobio’s all pushed up against the wall. Akira does. Tobio marvels in the way Akira looks beside him, pretty and curled up and tired. His hand rests between them and Tobio rests his hand beside his.

“Hi,” Akira whispers. Tobio smiles. “I’m sorry again. For punching you.”

Tobio was about to speak up, say _it’s okay, Kunimi, really, jesus_ when Akira speaks up again. “And for what happened.”

Tobio’s fingers curl up against his palm and he looks away from Akira’s stare to look up at his ceiling. Akira’s breathing is soft and light. He wonders if he should hold Akira’s hand.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, fingers curling again. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Silence. And then, Akira’s hand finds his and Tobio turns to him in shock. Akira’s teeth are biting down onto his bottom lip and his brows are furrowed. “No,” he says, hand squeezing Tobio’s. “Not okay. I stood you up and I haven’t even explained myself to you.”

“You don’t have to,” Tobio answers him, looking away again. Akira’s palm kisses his and he marvels at how their fingers fit, how it’s almost like a puzzle piece. _I don’t wanna hear you telling me I lost_ , is what Tobio wants to say. He wonders then, if he was really in the game in the first place. An ex versus a fake boyfriend?

“No,” Akira says firmly again. “I have to. I was an idiot for even going to him.”

“Did it work?” Tobio whispers out instead, throat scratchy and rough. He doesn’t wanna look back at Akira, doesn’t wanna look at his eyes when he tells Tobio he lost, this relationship or whatever you call it is over. Doesn’t even process what Akira’s said. “Are you and Kindaichi back together?”

“ _What_?”

Tobio looks at him and Akira’s sitting up a little, hands pinning down Tobio’s. He looks at their hands instead, their intertwined fingers pressing down his bed and—breathes. “What?”

“Tobio?” Akira whispers in disbelief and he marvels at how Akira’s lips curl up and pout around the name, how he wants to kiss the pout off for him. “What? No.”

“Oh,” he mumbles quietly, and he realizes that his voice is nasally. Ew. “Our fake dating didn’t work?”

Akira stays quiet and Tobio squeezes his hand. He doesn’t wanna look at him. Not now. Just for tonight, Tobio wants to feel his hand and stare at the ceiling.

“It worked,” Akira whispers so quietly and so lowly that Tobio almost doesn’t hear it, but he does. He always does. He turns to Akira then and smiles a little at the way Akira’s cheeks push up against the bed and the way his eyes stare at their interlocked hands. “He just wanted to use an excuse to see me.”

“Wow,” Tobio says instead. He wonders if he was Kindaichi, in a way. Maybe.

“It’s stupid,” Akira mumbles, lips jutted out into a pout and Tobio—stares. “I was so worried and he—he’s so stupid. I’m really sorry. I should’ve just ignored him.”

God. Akira really was the nicer one between the two.

Akira looks at him and whispers, “I’m really sorry. He was being stupid and pathetic. I should’ve just gone to you instead.”

And then, “He was being so stupid. I thought he was—injured or something. And I felt so bad I couldn’t talk to you and—”

“It’s okay,” Tobio cuts him off and wishes he could turn his body to meet Akira’s. He wonders if Akira can still taste the blood inside his mouth if he presses his mouth against his. “You’re okay, Kunimi.”

Tobio meets Akira’s eyes and wonders if they’ll ever get past the fake dating stage. Tobio wants to kiss him again, wants to taste him again. “Yeah,” Akira whispers, eyes calculating and alternating between looking at Tobio’s eyes then lips. He moves closer to him and squeezes his hand. “Okay. You’re okay, too.”

Tobio wants Akira to stay by his side forever.

“Not mad?” Akira whispers after a moment and Tobio lets out a laugh, staring up at his ceiling.

“Not mad.” He whispers back, turning to face him.

Akira has always been so beautiful, after all these years. Tobio always falls in love with him.

“Tobio,” Akira whispers and Tobio closes his eyes. God. He’s so sleepy and Akira’s breathing is familiar and warm, and his hands are familiar and warm. Everything about Akira is familiar and warm. He feels Akira press a kiss onto his knuckles and Tobio wants to shout, wants to open his eyes and to kiss Akira.

Sleep consumes him momentarily; in the way his mind goes hazy and foggy; in the way Akira’s laughter echoes in his mind, a dream or not?; in the way there’s a whisper, “You’re better than him, I promise.”

Tobio wonders if his dreams can be reality.

When Tobio wakes up, it’s to a pain on his neck and his sweaty palms against another. When Tobio wakes up, his other hand reaches up to swipe at his eyes and to turn to his open window. The morning sun greets him, and he squeezes Akira’s familiar hand.

“Good morning,” he hears, and he jumps a little and turns to look at Akira.

“You’re awake?” he asks in shock. “Did I wake you?”

Akira laughs a little and shakes his head before stretching a little yet still holds Tobio’s hand. “No, no,” he yawns out. “I’ve been awake longer.”

“Oh,” Tobio mumbles and turns to him, hoping it’s okay now. “You were watching me?”

Akira’s eyes widen and he glares at Tobio’s teasing smile. “Jerk,” he yawns and rubs at his eyes. “I wasn’t. You look ugly.”

Tobio pouts at him and moves closer, feeling the sunlight warm him. “You’re mean,” he mumbles. “First you punch me now this.”

Akira squeezes his hand a little too painfully and Tobio winces with a jump. “Ow,” he pouts again, looking at Akira’s glared eyes. “Meanie.”

Akira lets out a groan and moves away, draping an arm over his face. “I’m hungry,” he mumbles. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Tobio’s nose is still swollen. He thinks there’s dried up blood inside. He looks at his reflection on the mirror and frowns. At least there isn’t much pain.

He makes a couple faces at himself before leaving the bathroom and walking over to the kitchen. Akira’s cooking something. It smells good and homey and familiar.

“What are you cooking?”

Akira turns to him from his spot on the stove and motions for him to go to the refrigerator. “Go put an ice pack on your nose,” he says distractedly and goes back to what he’s cooking. Tobio can smell green onions. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

Tobio does. Sits by the table, presses an ice pack to his nose and watches as Akira moves in their kitchen like how he did last night in his room: graceful, familiar, at home. Akira fits in Tobio’s life so seamlessly, so perfectly, it makes him ache for something they’d never have.

Tobio sits there and watches, watches as Akira moves around, bends a little to get something, reaches up their cupboards like he’s been living here for years. He watches as Akira stops for a few moments, reads something out the bottle of the soy sauce and Tobio smiles despite himself. Ah, he misses Soy.

He voices this out and Akira turns to him with a smile. “You’ll see her again soon,” he says with a smile and cooks the rice. Tobio watches again, melted ice slowly dripping down his arms and sweatpants. Sizzling echoes throughout the empty kitchen and Tobio watches as Akira cooks with patience and focus. Tobio wants him to stay here forever.

(tobio wants akira forever, wants him to stay in his arms, wants him to hold his hand as they sleep, wants to wake up still holding his hands. tobio wants to wake up next to akira)

Soon enough, Akira places two bowls of fried rice in front of them and Tobio looks at him with a smile. Akira moves his hand and places the ice pack on the sink. “Later,” he reprimands him with a smile. “Let’s eat for now.”

They both start eating, even when Akira gives Tobio almost all of the rice and his are just downed in ten bites. Tobio feels guilty and tries to move the bowl towards him, urging him to eat more.

“It’s okay,” Akira laughs sleepily and tiredly, now leaning against the table. “You’re more important. Eat more for me.”

Tobio brings a spoonful of fried rice up to Akira’s mouth and glares at him. Akira looks at him in shock and laughs a little before taking a bite. Tobio smiles even when it hurts his nose a little. Ah. He’d do anything for Akira, he realizes.

“I didn’t explain myself last night,” Akira says suddenly and Tobio looks at him in question. “And before you say anything, don’t. I wanna explain myself, really.”

Akira takes a deep breath and looks down at the table in nervousness. “I really was gonna go that night but then Kindaichi—he, he wouldn’t stop messaging and calling me, and I got so scared.” Akira bites his lips hurriedly and Tobio wants to lean over them and free his bruised lips from his teeth.

“But he was just being stupid, you know? I got so annoyed, I left him so quickly, but he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t let me leave,” Akira’s eyes are downcast and big yet Tobio still wants him to stop talking—wants to say _it’s okay, kunimi, i understand, really_ yet he can’t find the words. “And I got so scared of meeting you then and I spent yesterday regretting it and I’m—I’m really sorry.”

“And I told you,” Tobio mumbles through a mouthful of fried rice. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you came back.”

Akira stares at him, awestruck and eyes wide and Tobio stares back, stares at how his eyes kinda remind him of a Disney movie—the Bambi one. Tobio stares and wonders if a kiss in the morning would be okay.

“I’m glad too,” Akira says then and smiles at him. “Now eat up, rockstar.”

Tobio huffs out a laugh and nods, turning back to his bowl. He tries to give Akira some but the other merely looks at him with a smile before shaking his head. Tobio wonders if there can be some hidden meaning behind fried rice.

“I have to go,” Akira says suddenly, as if he’s just remembered something and Tobio looks at him in question. “My class is starting soon.”

Tobio stares at his bowl again and nods. “Thank you for today,” he smiles at him and taps his chopsticks against the bowl. “And for last night. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Akira stares at him quietly before he smiles, slow and captivating. “Of course,” he says and stands up, Tobio realizing that his bag was just sitting on their feet. He watches as Akira bites his lip and stares at him for a moment before, “We’ll see each other again tonight?”

He says it as a question, and it makes something inside of Tobio to twist—to ache. He never wants Akira to ask him that again, wants Akira to know that he’ll always be there to see him.

“Of course,” Tobio says firmly with a nod, even if it makes his head hurt a little. “I’ll see you. I promise.”

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other, the aftermath of everything settling in their veins and it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. Tobio looks at Akira’s broad shoulders and his tired eyes yet his smile is soft and blinding. Tobio wants to kiss him.

“Please be safe,” he says, and Akira tilts his head at him. “I wanna see you tonight.”

Akira stares at him and then he huffs out a laugh, hand coming up to cover his mouth and he looks away. Tobio stares at his reddening ears and wonders if his warm face is seen as red too. Tobio watches as Akira moves closer and stands in front of him. Tobio looks up and wonders what it would feel like for Akira to lean down and to kiss him gently, sweetly.

Quietly, Akira brushes out Tobio’s bangs and lets his hand stay on his head for a while. Tobio meets his eyes and finds the same sadness in them. He wonders if he can be brave today.

“See you tonight, Tobio,” Akira whispers and Tobio’s breath hitches. Akira leans down and presses his lips against his forehead, staying and letting Tobio breathe him in, letting Tobio close his eyes and to remember this feeling.

Akira pulls away and his bangs flop back down his eyes. Akira smiles and brushes them gently to the side. “Bye-bye.”

With a still-swelling nose, Tobio watches, almost tearfully, as Akira leaves.

He wishes he was brave.

A week passes by and Tobio spends it training and playing volleyball, answering their worried questions about his nose with a laugh and a shrug. He laughs alongside their _delinquent tobio_ jokes and waits for his phone’s familiar ringtone to echo throughout the gym. Inside his bag. In his waiting hands.

A week passes by and Miwa and his mom fuss over his nose and demands answers from him even when Tobio tells the truth. Miwa raises her brows at the mention of Kunimi before familiarity and understanding floods her face and she looks at Tobio knowingly and teasingly. (Tobio is nineteen years old yet still throws pillows at her face.)

A week passes by and Tobio still thinks about Akira’s gentle eyes and warm lips and familiar hands and wonders what it would be like to be with him without the title of ‘fake boyfriend’.

(tobio also wonders when akira is just going to be honest with him—when is he gonna say it to tobio’s face, the _i don’t like you that way, what’s wrong with you?_ the _you honestly think i like you? we’re just friends_. tobio wonders if akira’s that mean to say it to his face. he wishes akira does, maybe tobio can learn to hate him.)

**akira ^___^ <3**

> are u busy tomorrow?

> lets hang out 

> after my class and your training

> okay?

> tobeeo

> [bee emoji]

The sunlight is warm on Tobio’s skin as he waits by the wall of the busy mall. Around him, crowds upon crowds of people all walking around and occasionally stopping by some shops. Tobio sighs and looks up at the trees around him, squinting at the way sunlight filters through them and he stares, watches, entranced.

“What are you looking at?”

Tobio jumps with a gasp and looks at his side to see Akira, also staring up at the trees, sunlight coloring his face gracefully. Tobio stares at the way his eyes look at the trees, sparkling and the way his lips settle into a small smile. Tobio stares and wonders if he can last today without kissing him. And then, Akira’s mouth opens a little and a yellow ice pop appears. Tobio stares. Akira’s eyes turn to him.

“You want some?” Akira asks teasingly around the ice pop and Tobio blinks. Clears his throat.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles. “How was class?”

Akira hums around the popsicle and Tobio stares at the contrasting yellow against pink. Jesus.

“Okay,” he mumbles around the popsicle and shrugs. “Kinda boring. You?”

Tobio looks away from the yellow and the pink and mumbles, “It was fine. I like volleyball.”

Coldness touches his lips and Tobio jumps, looking at Akira, who’s smiling at him and pressing the ice pop on his lips. Tobio’s hand grips tightly onto his gym bag and opens his mouth and wraps it around the ice pop. Mango bursts inside his mouth and he hums pleasingly. His eyes focus on Akira’s slender fingers around the stick of the ice pop and he makes the mistake of looking up at him. Akira’s eyes are wide and there’s this slow rise of red in his cheeks. Tobio looks at his shiny, parted lips and almost chokes on the ice pop.

Quickly, Tobio pulls away and clears his throat, swiping his tongue on his bottom lip. “Mango,” he nods, “yum.”

Akira raises a brow and smiles at him, bringing back the ice pop to his lips. “Yum,” he agrees and leans his shoulder against the wall. “You like it?”

Akira mouth wraps around the top of the ice pop and Tobio watches as it drips down to his fingers. Akira makes a noise of dissatisfaction and he blinks. “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “It tastes good.”

Akira hums and they stay there, Tobio looking back at the sunlight filtering through the tears, Akira, constant and quiet, beside him. When he hears tapping against teeth, he turns to see Akira looking up while tapping the ice pop stick on his teeth. He’s done with the ice pop and he keeps on tapping the stick against his teeth, not noticing Tobio’s disappointed gaze on him.

“Don’t do that,” Tobio reprimands him lightly and Akira turns to him, leaving the stick on his mouth. Tobio grabs hold of it and pulls it away, Akira pouting. “Let’s go?”

Tobio throws out the ice pop stick, trying to forget the memory of pink and yellow and if he can kiss Akira tonight. Akita’s hand finds his and Tobio marvels in the way their hands find each other.

They walk through the open mall, voices hushed between them, pointing at the other stalls in the middle of the mall, almost like an open market. They walk through the open mall and talk amidst the crowd, talk amidst the pop music playing loudly through the speakers, shoulders relaxed and bumping with each other. The air of familiarity and warmth breezes through them and Akira talks of college and matches in the future. Their hands frequently squeeze each other and the random strobing lights from random stalls illuminate their face.

Tobio stops in front of a stall, selling plants and marvels at a small cacti. Akira stands next to him and lets out a laugh. “Can you take care of that?” he asks, turning to him. Tobio looks away from the array of cacti and looks at him with a gentle smile.

“Me?” he laughs softly and straightens up from looking down at the table. “No, no. I’m too busy. You?”

“Hm,” Akira looks at the other plants and holds a leaf between his thumb and forefinger. “Soy might eat the leaves.”

“It’s a _cactus_ ,” Tobio gasps, horrified, hands squeezing his in instinct. “Soy might get hurt!”

“I won’t get a cactus,” Akira laughs in disbelief and looks away from the plants to laugh at Tobio’s horrified face. “Or a cacti, whatever. I’m getting these pretty ones, maybe.”

“They suit you,” Tobio murmurs and Akira lets go of the leaf, looking at his thumb and finger. “Pretty like you.”

Akira turns to him and Tobio’s eyes drift down to his lips. “You think so?” Akira whispers and Tobio wonders if he should do it—kiss him in the middle of this crowded mall, even in the late hours of the night.

“Are you two going to buy?”

Akira and Tobio jump and pull away from each other and look back at the table, where an elderly woman is smiling at them. Tobio feels his face heat up and he shakes his head vigorously. “No—no! Sorry for troubling you!”

The woman chuckles and leans back against her chair. “It’s okay,” she says gingerly, looking at them. “We’ll be here until next week. Don’t teenagers like plants nowadays?”

Tobio blinks and Akira speaks up, “Some do! We’ll make sure to come back, grandma.”

She hums happily and Tobio looks away in embarrassment. _We_? They’ll come back again, right? Him and Akira? Akira and Tobio?

Akira pulls Tobio away from the stall then and they begin walking around again, stopping at food stalls and Akira buying sandwiches for them. He pushes the sandwich at Tobio’s chest and looks away. “It’s not much,” he says and pulls away when Tobio grabs hold of it, “but it’s better than no dinner. I’ll make it up to you.”

Tobio looks at the sandwich and wonders. If this is what it’s like to be on a date. If this is what it’s like to be dating. If this is what it’s like to be with someone. He looks back at Akira’s blushing and puffy cheeks as he chews aggressively and wants to kiss him.

They continue to walk around, sandwich in hand and their voices hushed yet again. Tobio wonders if tonight’s the night he can say his feelings, like, for real. Tobio realizes that he doesn’t wanna play pretend anymore, wants to kiss Akira and let him know how he feels. Ah, god.

Akira points at a JB Sports store and Tobio probably must’ve gotten the familiar spark in his eyes because Akira laughs a little and tugs him inside. The familiar smell of plastic and rubber envelopes them and Tobio looks around in excitement, even though he won’t buy anything for now.

Akira holds his hand inside, points at knee pads, at elbow pads, at Mikasa volleyballs, at Molten ones. Akira holds his hand and makes teasing jokes of knee pads and balls that has Tobio furrowing his brows and holding back a choke of a laughter behind a hand.

Tobio looks at Akira, inside this small and bright JB Sports store, surrounded by volleyballs, basketballs, footballs, and feels—in love. “Akira,” he breathes out and Akira turns to him with bright eyes and a smile, still reeling from his joke.

“Hm?” he tilts his head and Tobio opens his mouth.

“Do you need some assistance?”

They both jump and turn to a worker and hurriedly shake their heads. “We—We’re fine,” Tobio says politely and the workers smiles and nods. Akira tugs at his hand and he turns to him.

Akira mentions to the door and Tobio looks at the volleyballs longingly again before following him out. “You should’ve bought knee pads,” he says.

“Me?” Akira asks, looking around again, the earlier crowd now smaller. Strobing, disco lights illuminate them and Tobio looks at the reds and purples and blues flooding Akira’s face. He turns to him and Tobio understands what it’s like to feel the rainbow curling around his veins. “I don’t play volleyball much, though.”

The speakers sing of being in love and young. Tobio wonders what would happen if the worker didn’t interrupt them and if he’d said it then—the _i love you_ , the _choose me_ , the _let’s be together for real, please_. “You could if you wanna,” Tobio mumbles and Akira tilts his head again, doe eyes wide and pretty and Tobio just feels like exploding. “We can play again.”

Akira huffs out a laugh and steps closer, fixing his bag strap for him. “That can be arranged,” Akira smiles, nose almost brushing with his. “I don’t need knee pads, though. I’m not a pro like you.”

Tobio looks at him and wishes that Akira can hear his thoughts. “Okay, okay, you keep calling me that.”

Akira hums happily and brushes out Tobio’s bangs again. “You deserve it,” he smiles and steps away. His hand finds Tobio’s again and he begins walking. “C’mon, let’s walk around.”

Then, Tobio’s phone vibrates. He reads out a message from his mother. “Buy a new lightbulb for the kitchen,” he drones out, eyes glazing over his phone. “And an extension for Miwa. Eh?”

Akira laughs and nods, pulling at Tobio again. “Chores,” he shrugs and tilts his head. “C’mon, let’s go to the hardware.”

And so, they do, Akira drags Tobio to Ace Hardware and Tobio follows him, cheeks dusted red and mind swirling if tonight’s the night. If Akira’s hand had always felt this familiar and warm. If tomorrow, Tobio can still call Akira his.

They walk inside, shoulder brushing shoulder, hands held tight and laugh softly between misplaced jokes and teasing words. Their feet carry them over the familiar sections, the familiar appliances and Tobio thinks of the entirety of it all—the familiarity of Akira, the domesticity of Akira, his love for Akira.

Tobio kisses Akira when they’re in front of the array of extension wires and Akira looks at him with wide eyes and blushed cheeks and Tobio smiles at him. Akira mumbles of pretty boys and harsh kisses and Tobio murmurs back of pretty boys and complaining voices. Akira surges forward and kisses him again, biting a little too harshly at his bottom lip. Akira squeezes his hand a bit too much. Tobio wants to kiss him everywhere.

“Annoying,” Akira mumbles and Tobio grins at him, an extension wire in hand.

Tobio drags Akira to the lights and stares blankly at the bright ones, eyes not adjusting. Akira stands next to him, quiet and staring. “Bright,” Tobio mumbles, eyes unblinking and he thinks he sees Akira nod.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, moving closer to Tobio, hands practically squished between them as they take in the lights. Then, “I want to be your real boyfriend.”

When Tobio closes his eyes, the lights still flash against him and he shudders at the way they dance around his dark vision. His eyes flash open and he stares at the bright lights in shock before turning to Akira. Akira’s eyes are wide and his mouth open.

“What?”

Akira turns to him, blinking rapidly and Tobio rubs at his eyes. Jesus, why did they look at the lights? “Nothing,” Akira rushes out and Tobio squeezes his hand.

“No,” Tobio says, blinking at him, blinking at the white spots that cover Akira. “You said—you wanna? Boyfriend? Like real? Not fake?”

Akira rubs at his eyes and pouts. Tobio steps closer. “The lights blinded me,” Akira mumbles, looking at Tobio and blinking. There’s a moment where they just blink at each other and Akira snorts out a laugh. Tobio laughs too, even if he shakes his head a couple of times.

“They’re so bright,” Tobio whines lowly, pressing his palm into his eyes. “Kunimi, I like you.”

Tobio squeezes his hand. Akira squeezes back. “You’re joking,” Akira says and Tobio pulls away his hand and looks at Akira, clearer, prettier. “You’re absolutely joking. Don’t play with me, Kageyama.”

“I’m not,” Tobio frowns, moving closer. “I thought you were being mean.”

“Why would I be mean?” Akira frowns, shaking his head and moves his hand out of his way. “Was I ever mean to you?”

“No,” Tobio’s frown deepens and he looks at Akira then, inside this late-night mall, inside the bright Ace Hardware store, in front of the bright lights section, almost blinding them and feels laughter tickle his throat. “Do you like kissing me?”

Akira narrows his eyes and his cheeks push up into a smile. Tobio wonders if this is real—if the lights blinded him to death. “Of course, I do,” he says shyly, looking down at his side. “I liked everything you did.”

A few aisles down, metal clashes to the floor and they both jump, moving closer to each other and hands squeezed tight. Tobio looks down at their hands and smiles. He brings up Akira’s knuckles to his lips and presses a soft kiss.

“Tobio,” Akira breathes out and Tobio looks at him. The right side of Akira’s face is bright and illuminated by the white lights, yet Tobio can still see the bright flush of his cheeks and the way his eyes droop down a little. “Can we leave, please? Back to your room? Or mine?”

Tobio wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him inside this Ace Hardware store.

Akira laughs and shakes his head. “No,” he laughs and Tobio realizes he’s said it out loud. “You’re not kissing me here.”

Tobio scrunches his nose and Akira squeezes his hand. “Come on, Tobio,” Akira whispers. “Let’s go home. I’ll kiss you then.”

Tobio feels his face heat up even more and he looks back at the bright lights. Looks at Akira’s eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ll wait.” _I’ll wait, like I have been, for years. For you. Always for you_.

Akira tugs at his hand, tugs at his hand when they’re paying for Tobio’s lightbulb and extension wire, tugs at his hand when Tobio’s chuckling and forcing the Ace Hardware paper bag inside his gym bag, tugs at his hand towards the parking lot, tugs at his—

Tobio stops walking and—looks. Akira stops too and turns to look back at him with a questioning look in his eyes. “What?” he asks, brows furrowing. “Your house is that way, right? Come on, Tobio, I’m actually considering talking about my feelings with you.”

Tobio and Akira stand there, in the middle of the empty and dark parking lot, and the night wind is chill and harsh against their cheeks and hair. Tobio looks at Akira; at his messy and wilding hair; his flushed cheeks; his squinting eyes; his lips; looks and looks and—“I’m in love with you.”

Their outstretched hands stand between them as the wind whips at Akira’s shocked face and Tobio can hear the muffled pop music from inside the mall, the distant lights illuminating Akira. God, he’s still so—beautiful.

“You—” Tobio rushes out and speaks up against the chilling wind. “I’m in love with you—and—you’re pretty and I think you’re the boy I’m in love with.”

Akira moves closer. Tobio stands still and lets the harsh wind kiss his cheeks. Akira’s hand is warm. Warm, familiar, warm, familiar. “I’m,” Akira breathes out and Tobio looks at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Tobio’s gym bag falls to the floor. Akira jumps and he closes his eyes. “Ah,” he lets out, hand coming up to cover his face, while his other hand squeezes Tobio’s. “That was embarrassing.”

They’re close, so close that Tobio can brush his nose against Akira’s and—he does. He does. Brushes his nose against Akira’s. Brushes his lips against Akira’s. Smiles at the shuddering breath Akira lets out.

For the first time since they met, Akira lets go of Tobio’s hand and cups his cheeks instead. “Tobio,” he whispers, vulnerable and tender, hands warm against Tobio’s cold cheeks. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Tobio looks at Akira’s flushed cheeks, his eyes peering up at Tobio’s, his lips brushing against his and wants to bottle this forever—wants to bottle this moment, this moment in his chest, in his heart, in his bones, in his veins.

Akira’s lips press against his, cold and chapped and Tobio wraps his arms against his, pulling their bodies flush. Akira makes a noise of surprise against his lips but Tobio tilts his head a little, kissing him closer, deeper.

No.

Tobio doesn’t wanna bottle this memory. Doesn’t wanna bottle anything inside of him now—doesn’t wanna bottle emotions, feelings, memories.

God.

Tobio wants to—he wants to live in this moment; the harsh, night air whipping at their clothes and hair, cold and strong against their cheeks; Akira’s warm hands against his cheeks; Akira’s lips against his; Akira’s body against his; _akira akira akira akira akira_.

Tobio doesn’t wanna bottle anything anymore. Tired of the bottles cracking and breaking, wants to live freely, wants to let his emotions course through his veins, through his bones, seeping through.

Tobio wants to live.

His arms tighten around Akira’s and he mumbles then, “Akira.”

Akira huffs out a laugh against his lips and they both pull away. Tobio leans his forehead against his and hugs him tighter. Akira laughs and Tobio—Tobio wants to kiss him forever.

“Akira,” he murmurs, staring into his eyes, at his eyelashes, at the barely-there freckles. “ _Akira_.”

“Tobio,” Akira murmurs back, because he’s Akira. And Tobio’s in love with him.

Tobio lets out a laugh then and sways their body together, twirling them a little making Akira laugh.

“Are we seriously dancing now?” Akira laughs loudly, echoing around the empty parking lot. His arms wrap around Tobio’s instead and he leans his chin against Tobio’s shoulder, laughter mixing in with the wind.

“Yes,” Tobio says firmly, with seriousness before letting out a similar laugh. They slowly dance in circles, comfortable and silent, accompanied with a few laughs.

Tobio doesn’t want to bottle everything up anymore. He realizes, as the wind kisses his cheeks and Akira’s huffs of laughter echoes, that love can’t be bottled. Can’t just be bottled. He dances, he hugs, he twirls with Akira and realizes—god, maybe they’re both meant for love.

Tobio pulls back and leans his forehead against Akira’s again and feels soft laughter crawl out of his throat. He presses his lips against Akira’s. Kisses him again. And again. And again.

Akira laughs into the kiss and the wind is harsh and cold against Tobio’s cheeks but he—Tobio feels happy, feels young, he feels—

Tobio feels alive.

_Happiness is not this thing for other people. It is for you. It is for me._

_It is for all of us. We all get an ending._

**— Charlie’s Letter,** _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for giving my tiny coming of age kunikage fic some of your time!! i hope i did them justice and that the ending wasn't too rushed/ugly?? aahhh please don't hesitate to comment <3 also, jsdbkjs a lot ... seemed to like the kunihina from last time.. and i'm sorry if i didn't get to explore more of them here because if i did this probably would've been longer and longer aahh.. but rest assured, kunimi has two hands!! maybe they go to brazil!! i ended it a little vague nd stuff for u guys :D again, thank you so so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed this lil journey of tobio and akira <3 i love you all !!
> 
> again, i love you osgc because without u guys, this fi wouldn’t exist!! thank you for being the greatest friends ever <3 i love you all 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/bokkuns) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sabihin) <3 !!!

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/bokkuns) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sabihin) <3


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